


Winning for You

by headraline



Series: For Better or Worse [2]
Category: Hikaru no Go
Genre: M/M, More Tags will Come Later, Other, Sai is my favorite Deus ex Machina, Slight Violence, also Sai, boy/boy, idk my fingers write on their own, suspence I guess, this is not a happy fun time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-08 23:43:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10398846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/headraline/pseuds/headraline
Summary: Today is the day. He's been doing well in his Honinbou matches, he's one step away from securing the title... he's finally worthy of someone like him. Hikaru is going to confess his feelings for Akira, tonight.At least, that's what he thought before it all crumbles to pieces around him.





	1. The Price of a Rival

**Author's Note:**

> Am I fast or what?
> 
> So yeah, the one-shot I just posted this morning was actually just a prequel to this. Go figure.  
> Once again, I have no idea what I'm doing.  
> I can't stress it enough, I'm just writing on instinct. I have all these ideas and I enjoy storytelling. I don't write to be the best, nor do I claim to be, I just love the story, love the characters and, since there's nobody else around creating anything about them, I simply have to do it myself.  
> Hope anyone reading this can enjoy as well.

Touya’s lips curve into a knowing smile, over the goban. “Don’t look, Shindou, but I think your fanboy is there, with his friend in tow.” He murmurs, as he places his hand down.

Hazel eyes shift slightly to the right, and Shindou bites back a chuckle. Little Oka and Rui, the two inseis they met at the first round of last year’s Young Lions tournament, just happened to pass by the Institute’s lobby and promptly froze as they saw the two life-long rivals casually play against each other with a foldable goban and sandwiches on the side. Apparently, Oka is a hardcore Shindou supporter, while Rui strongly claims that Touya is superior. Their opinions became more fluid when they bumped into their idols head-first, but it still was a good laugh for both the pros.

Looking back at his rival, Hikaru’s eyes take on a hint of mischief. “Wanna call them over and see which one starts hyperventilating first?”

“It wouldn’t be fair. Your little fanboy will probably faint upon eye-contact.” The long haired pro chuckles, and shakes his head. “Plus, you’re supposed to practice for your fourth Honinbou title match. Can you afford the distraction?”

Shindou scoffs. “Oh please, like little miss perfect over there isn’t going to flip at the very sight of her beautiful Go prince. And anyway, a little distraction might be just what I need.”

“Did you just call me beautiful?”

“Not the point!!!” Hikaru is quick to specify, at Akira’s confused blinking. He hasn’t recovered from their last ‘training session’ –the absurd idea of playing _strip-go_ with Touya still fresh in his mind, as well as many _other_ things that will permanently be burned in his retinas. He has to admit though, it worked wonders for his ability to play under pressure, and his second game against Kuwabara-sensei was something to be reckoned with. Then he also won the third, just two days ago, albeit that one was fought tooth and nail down to the very last moku.

Akira all but stormed the room to go hug him, prompting a series of confused sputters from the blond, amused chuckles from the officials, and a cackle from the old sensei like he wasn’t the one who lost. Shaking his head to himself, Shindou finally turns to the insei duo. “Hey, there, you two!”

The pair immediately stiffens at the call. Touya covers his lips with the tips of his fingers, chuckling discreetly at the nervousness they once felt as well. “Don’t be scared of him, he doesn’t bite… too much.”  He encourages, throwing a sideways look at his rival that makes the blonde’s stomach drop.

 _‘What’s that supposed to mean?!’_ he thinks, contemplating various possibilities of actually biting Touya, _‘Do you even know how dirty that sounded, you idiot?’_

Clearly, the two teenagers are thinking just like him, considering Oka slightly paled and Rui is blushing up a storm, but they do come close, and Hikaru not so subtly redirects the conversation. “Want to watch us play for a bit?”

They both nod eagerly. “Um… sensei…” Oka asks, swallowing, “Why are you here?”

The girl promptly baps him upside the head. “Don’t be rude, you idiot!”

“Eh-I-I mean!” he tries to clarify, “Wh-why would sensei be here when tomorrow there’s his next title match?”

“That’s none of your business! He _invited_ your butt to watch him and Touya-sensei play, shut up and be grateful!” Rui chastises, hands on both of her hips.

Not hearing a word from either pro, they turn to look at them and are confused by the fond, almost nostalgic way both Touya and Shindou are looking at them. The son of the former Meijin is the first to speak. “Remind you of anyone, Hikaru?” he asks, again looking sideways at his rival, a strange emphasis on the way he calls the other’s first name.

Hikaru shakes his head. _‘So when’s the wedding, little ones?’_ he thinks, biting back the question for the sake of not exposing his own feelings just yet. Not yet. They planned this day to take it easy, a lull between the third and fourth match of the title challenge –after all, he’s only _one_ victory away from the title, if he manages to claim it for himself. But to be able to play at his top, he needs to let out the stress, and free his mind. Which is obviously accomplished by spending time with Touya, arguing about stupid shit, playing casual games, or even doing nothing in particular. He's going to take his chance on such a day.

They resume playing, and not only they’re not even in seiza, they’re literally sprawled on their seats, Akira almost draped on his left side on the table’s surface, one arm propped up by the elbow to support his head with his hand, long curtain of hair spilling in-between his fingers; while Hikaru is sitting pretty much the opposite way, leaning far back on the chair and with one ankle crossed over on one knee.

 _‘Whoever said Touya Akira is a stiff clearly never saw him alone with Shindou…’_ Oka distractedly muses, watching the two play a relaxed but still aggressive game.

“You’re really trying to cut me across so far into my own territory?” Touya’s voice is amused, smooth but still thick with something, when he speaks to his rival. Completely different from the courteous and friendly tone he just used with them, almost as if his voice was dipped in molasses.

When he responds to Shindou’s attack with a tsuke, the blonde’s lip quirk in a smirk. “Can’t be helped, dollface, you stole the middle from right under my nose, I have to push fast if I want any chance over here.”

 _‘D-d-dollface?!’_ Oka and Rui look at each other, bewildered. Touya himself doesn’t seem to notice... or care.

“Maybe, but you weren’t fast enough…” Akira watches his rival make his next move and exhales. “Not today.” He says, and with the finality only a Touya is capable of, he slams down his next move, and the game is done for.

Hikaru is silent for a long couple of seconds. “….Fine. You don’t have to be so smug about it.” He snaps, retrieving his fan and crossing his arms.

“I’m not being smug.” The other says, still smiling at the board, “It was a good game.” Oka and Rui would agree, if only they could follow what the hell was going on. Then Touya’s eyes narrow at the blonde. “But you’re going to lose if you play Kuwabara-sensei like this, tomorrow.” He warns, and had it been anyone else Hikaru would’ve told them to fuck off, but this is Akira, and when they talk about Go… he’s usually right.

“Well, lucky me, I’d _never_ play the old man like I play you.” Hikaru says, with just a tinge of embarrassment to his voice. _‘We’ve been flirting over this goban for the past hour and a half, no way I’d do that with the geezer.’_ Some of their play today did have a back and forth quality reminiscent of a cat and mouse game. The blond idly wonders if their little audience can see it.

“Wow… Touya-sensei is amazing…” Rui seems to be more taken with her shining Go prince than anything else, and Oka is reluctantly agreeing that Touya’s victory was quite the display of skill. A strong, but playful demonstration of grace and prowess.

Akira bows his head politely to accept the compliment. “Well, Hikaru wasn’t playing seriously today.” He counters, as an explanation for his victory, “Also, I don’t have the blade of a title match dangling over my head… so there’s that.”

“You’re being too good to me, Akira.” Shindou comments, amusedly. “Are you about to die? Am _I_ about to die?” they all laugh good-naturedly at the disbelieving remark, as if the two rivals never complimented each other in public, and Hikaru turns his smile to the young insei that seems to look up to him so much for some reason. “Wanna discuss it with us, for a little?”

“That would be awesome, sensei…” Oka says, still very insecure about how to talk to him, “But we have to go to our matches now.”

“Run along, then… don’t let us keep you.” Akira and Hikaru watch the two teenagers leave, whispering excitedly to each other about how cool this is and how they’re so going to show the game to their sensei and stuff. Sitting up to stretch and smooth his hair back down, Touya sighs contentedly and turns to his rival. “Now what?”

Hikaru shrugs at him. “I don’t know. Let’s go find somewhere fun to spend the afternoon.”

“Well, it’s your day off.” Emerald eyes turn to him with a softness Hikaru is still not used to, “Lead the way.”

 _‘This is it.’_ Shindou's had it planned ever since his victory the day before yesterday. He is going to confess to Touya, all fears be damned, tonight. He’s going to talk him into hanging out at the park, since it’s summer and Touya’s skin needs to see at least a little bit of sunshine unless he wants to turn into a vampire, and they’re gonna chat about everything and nothing, and reminisce about Sai and stuff, and then, when they move to go home, Hikaru is going to offer to see Akira home since his apartment is on the way, and he’s going to confess. Right at his doorstep. Like in the stupidly cheesy Korean dramas Suyong keeps on sending him.

 

The day does go pretty much as usual, and Hikaru is relaxed for most of it –sometimes, they’re so caught up in Go that he forgets how much he enjoys Touya’s company as is. After all, he was pulled in by the other’s eyes –his situation hasn’t changed.

In a way, he always knew. Even when he thought he hated Akira, he’s always had feelings for him, it was just too early to recognize them. But they’re not kids anymore.

The thought makes him nervous. He glances around, as the street lights start to lit up, in response to the growing darkness around him –they ended up staying out later than expected – and it’s almost… atmospheric. Like everything around him it’s telling him to man up and confess already.

“You know… today was lots of fun.” Akira suddenly says, voice impossibly fond, “I’m happy we get to hang out like this.”

“Me too…” he answers, swallowing down his insecurity and looking back up at his rival. “Akira, I—”

He doesn’t get to finish the phrase, as two men come up to their sides and start walking along.

“Either of you two gents got a cigarette?” one asks, slightly muffled behind his flu mask.

“Sorry, neither of us smoke.” Akira politely replies, while Shindou is too busy being flooded with a sudden overdrive of anxiety. It’s ridiculous, they’re just people walking down a street, and yet…

Something’s wrong.

“Hey, you’re Touya Akira, the Go pro, aren’t you?”

 _‘Don’t tell them, Akira.’_ The blonde’s fists clench at his sides.

“Um, yeah.”

_‘Damn it, I have to get him away.’_

“Oh cool! Could I bother you for an autograph? I’m a big fan.” The man starts searching his pockets, and Touya, bless his soul, stops walking, again, _politely_ waiting for him to find pen and paper, or whatever, and Hikaru tries to dissuade him. Be it enhanced instincts from hanging out together with a ghost for years, or random intuition, Hikaru just knows he has to get Akira away from here. “We should hurry up—”

But he’s a split second too late. Instead of pen and paper, what emerges from the man’s pocket is a gun, and Akira is paralyzed with fear.

“Don’t!” He yells, moving to jump in front of his rival, but the other man suddenly grabs him in a headlock and points a knife at him. “Ack—Akira, run!”

“H-Hikaru?!” rooted on the spot with an entirely new fear, Touya turns to the man holding the gun to them. “What do you want?” he asks, trying valiantly to keep his tone as even as possible to bargain with these thugs in exchange for his rival’s freedom.

“Oh, that’s an easy thing.” The attacker says, “Just you. Come with us and no one’s getting hurt.”

Hikaru ponders his chances. Both men are quite tall and rather strong looking –one on two is definitely not going to be pretty for him, no matter how good he’s been doing on his occasional visits to the gym, but still. _‘I can’t let them take Akira!’_ he takes a breath and heaves forward, throwing off the one holding him down and moving to try to take away the gun from the other. “Don’t listen to them, Akira, run for it, damn it!!!”

The scuffle is too fast for Touya to even do anything about it: the man who had grabbed Hikaru earlier grabs him again, this time by the arms, and the other hits the blond hard on the temple with the butt of his gun. Hikaru loses consciousness, and there’s a tiny trickle of blood poking through his hair.

“No!!! Leave him alone, you bastards!” instinct finally overcoming the fear that had him paralyzed up until two seconds ago, Akira tries to punch the man threateningly hovering over the now unconscious Shindou. He just gets grabbed by the wrists and shoved into the other one, who points the gun straight at his head.

Feeling the cold steel of the barrel touch his cheek, Touya goes still again. “Please.” He breathes out, swallowing his pride, “Don’t hurt him.”

“That’s easily done, little prince.” The man assures, laughing wickedly behind his mask. “Come with us, and your precious friend will just take a nap here on the sidewalk.”

Trembling, Akira takes a shaky breath and nods. “Step away from him first.”

 

Hikaru awakes to the sound of his cellphone, aching and cold, before remembering he’s on the sidewalk. _‘Those men!’_ he looks around, “Akira!” he calls, “Akira!!!” he calls again, but to no avail. _‘Shit. Did they take him?’_ the obvious answer would be yes, they very much did take him, but Shindou can’t think, not with the stinging pain on the side of his head and the obnoxious ringing of his phone. He feels along his temple, and is not surprised to find blood.

With his other hand, he takes his phone, if only to make the ringing stop. His eyes widen and he instantly swipes ‘answer’ when he sees the caller id is Touya.

“Touya! Did you get away? Where are you? Are you hurt? Want me to come get you?”

The chuckle that comes from the other end of the line is decidedly _not_ Touya, and Hikaru’s blood runs cold at the sound. _«Hello, Shindou Hikaru-sensei._ _»_

“What did you assholes do to him?” he immediately asks, standing up and looking around, with the blind hope they’d still be in the vicinity.

_«Oh nothing, really. He’s been a good boy._ _»_

Hikaru doesn’t like the man’s tone. His fist clenches down his side. “Let’s cut the crap, what do you want to give him back?”

 _«Straight to the point, huh? I can appreciate that in a man._ _»_ the kidnapper laughs some more, seemingly very amused, _«Let’s see, how much is your ‘eternal rival’ worth? How about the cash prize for the Honinbou title?_ _»_

“I haven’t won that yet.” Hikaru finds himself saying, and swallows. Just the cash prize for the Honinbou title? There aren’t enough titles in this universe to cover payment for Touya Akira, at least as far as the blonde is concerned. Still. It's doable, and he's not about to give them ideas.

_«Don’t be like that, son. You’re three games in, right? You only have to win one more and you’re all set._ _»_

It’s true, and under any other circumstances Hikaru would have said his chances are pretty damn good, but right now… even Sai would forgive him, Go isn’t exactly the first thing on his mind at the moment.

_«After all, you do wanna see your little boyfriend again, don’tcha?_ _»_

Bastards. “Let me talk to him, first.” He demands, trying to keep his voice level, “I’m not agreeing to anything until I hear his voice.”

 _«That’s fair, I suppose. Here._ _»_ there’s some shuffling on the other end of the line, and then, like music, Akira’s voice reaches the Honinbou challenger’s ears. _«Hikaru…_ _»_

“Akira! Oh my God…” Shindou can’t quite contain himself, and he feels tears running down his cheeks but he couldn’t give less shits if he tried, right now. “I’ll get you out of there, I promise.”

 _«I-it’s okay, Hikaru…_ _»_ Touya’s tone is shaky and he’s clearly trying to sound strong for him, _«I’m not hurt… don’t worry about me. You can win, I know it._ _»_

“Hang in there. I’ll get you back. I—”

 _«Okay, that’s enough for the conjugal visit._ _»_ the man comes back on the line, even though Hikaru can still hear Akira’s protests in the background –it figures, that he won’t stop being a stubborn hothead even when he’s surrounded by armed men, _«Let’s talk conditions. If you call the police, you can say goodbye to your so-called rival. Same goes for telling his family or anyone at the Go institute._ _»_

Predictable. And funnily enough, Akira doesn’t have any matches scheduled for tomorrow. If he manages to win, these guys get to pocket a fortune and no one will ever even have known anything happened. They couldn’t have timed it better if they tried –unless he loses.

_‘The day after tomorrow he has to teach at the city festival… they’d notice he’s missing…’_

It would be risky, to lose purposefully to buy time to free Akira, not to mention dangerous for what they might do to his rival... but he might have a chance, there. “He’s a public figure. People will notice.” He remarks, just in case,

 _«True, but we’ll be able to tell if you spill the beans._ _»_ the man on the other side of the line says, _«And trust me, you don’t want to know what happens to sweet, precious ‘Akira’ if you do._ _»_

Hikaru swallows bitterly at the tone the kidnapper makes fun of them with. “Fine. I accept.”

_«Oh and one more thing: no telling Kuwabara Honinbou so he can let you win by forfeit either, you have to win it fair and square!_ _»_

Huh. So it’s not just about the money. These sickos are actually deriving a twisted amusement from the whole thing. _‘They’re disgusting.’_ Hikaru thinks, but it’s something he can work with. They’ll definitely keep Akira alive to play their sick game with them until the end, which means he has time. “I said _fine_.” He reiterates.

_«Cool. We’ll call you again to tell you where to take the money.»_

The line goes dead before Shindou can get another word in, and he brings his free hand to his chest in a feeble attempt to calm his breathing. He can’t believe it. It’s so surreal. Just hours ago they were watching over inseis and playing games, and now Touya’s _gone,_ kidnapped to who knows were, and in danger.

_‘And I’m his only hope.’_

Winning the title of Honinbou has just got infinitely more important.

 

_~tbc~_


	2. Set Up for Defeat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hikaru’s emotions run amok on the goban, constantly gaining and losing sente and making generally a mess of his own formations. It’s a wonder they even reach yose.
> 
> «So. What went wrong, 'sensei'?»

Hikaru’s hands are trembling at the entrance of the Room of Deep Contemplation, for the first time in many years. He crossed paths with Ogata-san, on the way in, who asked “Where’s your other half? I thought he’d already be in the watching room.”

Terrible joke about them dating aside, the question stings. “I-I don’t know.” He croaked out, “I haven’t seen him since yesterday.” He answered, which is technically true and maybe could lead to people getting curious and finding out on their own that the precious prodigy and leader of the so-called new wave is fucking _missing_ –but now, at the door, he’s completely paralyzed.

He doesn’t even know whether he wants to win and get things over with, or lose to get more time to think up ways of finding Akira.

“You look like a ghost of yourself today.” Not even Kuwabara-sensei’s voice is enough to distract him, and the blonde doesn’t even flinch. “Your winning streak is _over_ , brat.”

Predictably enough, the match was an absolute nightmare. So conflicted within himself, Hikaru’s emotions run amok on the  goban, constantly gaining and losing sente and making generally a mess of his own formations. It’s a wonder they even reach yose.

Sure, maybe the pounding headache from the pistol-whip he got just the night before also factored in his lack of concentration, but really. It’s mostly the trauma of witnessing his rival’s kidnapping and see his life dangled before his eyes as a fucking game. When he resigns, the hand gripping the fan is clenched tight enough that his fingernails draw blood from his palms.

For once, though, Kuwabara Honinbou is not laughing.

Before all the observers and officials pile in to start the game discussion, the defender takes a long look at the board, and finally speaks: “You’re haunted by something very dark right now. I take no joy in winning against you, today.”

 _‘What an infuriatingly perceptive old man.’_ Hikaru thinks, itching to get out of there and start brainstorming about finding Akira –not to mention worried sick about what his captors will do once they find out he lost today. _‘Your intuition and wisdom is useless to me right now.’_

He refuses to say a word during the entire game discussion, no matter how much they prod at him, and after a while he has to excuse himself or he could swear his body would give out on him and he’d throw up over the goban. “If that’s alright… I’d like to leave.” He croaks out, far more believable than he should be, “I don’t… feel well.”

True enough, he’s paler than any of the people present ever saw him, his breathing is shallow and Ogata is discreetly eyeing the poorly concealed wound on his temple. “You definitely look the part, kiddo.” He comments, moving to stand up, “Want me to drive you anywhere?”

“No.” Shindou hastily replies, backing away from him. “I’ll be fine, I just have to get some fresh air and go lay down.”

And with that, he runs out before anyone else can question him. The next match won’t be for another day. His top priority now is how to find Akira –and possibly getting help in doing so without alerting his captors.

 

Akira wakes with a start.

 _‘Huh. So it wasn’t just a nightmare.’_ He looks around his cell, recalling memories of the previous evening and the conversation with Hikaru over the phone. His chest feels heavy, and his breath quickens. _‘No… calm down. I can’t panic in a place like this.’_ He reminds himself, looking around for anything useful in what seems to be a cleaned out storage, _‘I’m as good as dead if I do.’_

There’s a tiny window with bars in the uppermost part of one of the walls, the cot he woke up onto, a bucket whose function he doesn’t even want to think about right now, and… not much else. Touya sighs. _‘I probably should be grateful they even thought about leaving the fucking bucket in the room.’_

Getting up, he decides to scour the room inch by inch, to see if he can find anything, even a broken nail, to defend himself with should the need arise –not that it’d do much, considering how quickly those two disposed of Hikaru, who is much stronger than he is, but still…

Sadly, he comes up empty, and soon the restlessness that comes with the reality of his situation sets in. He raises his arm to check his watch, but his wrist is naked. _‘Of course they took it.’_ It’s probably more because they don’t want him to be fully aware of the passage of time so he can’t get control over himself, but probably the actual value of the thing played a role in its disappearance as well.

 _‘It’s going to be alright. Hikaru can win. He will win.’_ He thinks to himself, trying to calm down his beating heart, _‘They have been wearing masks the whole time, they don’t plan on killing me.’_ Moving his gaze to the door, Akira realizes that there’s one of those portholes you can slide open and speak to people through. When he tries it, it’s locked.

He’s just about done with this shit, and maybe getting his captors to talk to him can give him an edge on the situation eventually. He bangs on the door a couple of times. “Hey! Hey!!!”

“What do you want?” the reply being nearly immediate tells him that they were in there the whole time, so chances are there’s another room right after his door, and they’re keeping watch.

Face to face with the big, burly guy that fought Hikaru, Akira tries to look past him and take a gander at the surroundings –he can’t see much, with the man’s masked head taking up most of the space, but out of the corner of his eye he can see a bit of a desk with a computer on, and the far corner of the room. The walls are concrete and grey, and the place looks generally small so far. He tries to look nonchalant. “What time is it?”

“Ah, Touya Akira-sensei, you’re up!” the other man’s voice reaches them before the brute can give him an answer. He’s the one who had the gun, probably the leader of the two. “Getting a little anxious? Don’t worry, match results should be out soon.”

“Why are you doing this?” it’s not like they’ll answer him truthfully, but as long as he keeps them talking he can look around, think up something, maybe an escape plan. _‘This is a tsumego, and every word is a stone down.’_

“Isn’t it obvious? For the money.”

Talking back is risky, but it’s better than sitting there doing nothing. “Please don’t insult me like that. You could have ransomed me off to my family and would have been able to get far more than _one_ cash title prize.”

The man laughs at him behind his mask. “Maybe, but that’s far more dangerous for us. Do you even know how influential your father really is? We’d probably have secret services on our ass in fifteen minutes.” He says, “But Shindou Hikaru? He’s alone, and he’s a _nobody_.”

 _‘Huh. That sounded personal.’_ Akira muses, noting the bitter edge to the kidnapper’s voice as he talked about Hikaru. It would seem like this kidnapping is more about the power play and crushing Hikaru and him than it is about money. _‘Well, joke’s on you, bastards. Hikaru is_ not _a nobody, and neither of us is alone.’_

“Results are in, boss.”

Touya can’t help the surge of mixed fear and hope that goes through him, and all but slams his hands on the door. “Let me see it!”

His captors ignore him for a moment. “He lost? That damned brat, is he trying to stall for time? Has he already gone to the cops?” the kidnapper muses, “No, it doesn’t make sense, we told him we’ll kill his little boyfriend if he does…”

Akira starts banging on the door again. “Hey! Hey! Don’t ignore me, you fucks, show me the kifu!”

“Don’t talk back, you prissy little prick!” a bang from the other side of the door jolts Akira back.

 _‘Oookay, don’t piss off the big one.’_ He takes a shaky breath and focuses his attention on the other man. “Show me the kifu.” He repeats, keeping his gaze even, “Do you want to know if he did it on purpose, or not?”

The kidnapper ponders it for a second, and then Touya can hear a printer going off. Moments later, a printout of the kifu from the institute’s website is passed through the porthole.

Maybe it’s stupid and childish, but holding Hikaru’s kifu actually calms him down a bit. When he looks at it, he nearly feels like crying. “Hikaru… what the hell…” he murmurs, sliding his fingers over some of the more panicked moves. This is the game of someone who’s terrified. Shindou is actually worried sick about him, and is struggling to figure out what to do. He breathes deeply a couple of times. “This game is in complete and utter shambles. Shindou was not thinking properly, and just messed up.”

If either of them is good in Go, they’ll know he’s telling the truth. If they aren’t, they have no reason to doubt him, right?

“Yeah, well.” His captor says, fishing Akira’s cellphone out of his pocket, “Let’s give him a call just in case, shall we? Straighten him out a bit.”

Touya’s eyes flash alive at the chance. “Am I allowed to discuss the game with him?”

The kidnapper seems to ponder his option for a second –on one hand, he can’t let them talk too long, on the other hand, he might never get his money if he doesn’t let them discuss their precious little match. “You get three minutes.”

 _‘That’ll be more than enough.’_ A sigh of relief almost escapes the 9-dan lips, but he doesn’t let it show.

 

When his cellphone rings, Hikaru is almost afraid to answer, but he wants to hear Akira’s voice so badly. _‘I didn’t even get to tell him—’_ he stops that thought before it even finishes. They still have time. “Hello.”

_«So. What went wrong, sensei?»_

“I don’t know, how about a very traumatizing event that made me unable to play normally, like some jackasses kidnapping my rival for ransom and putting his life on the line with my matches?” it probably isn’t a good idea to sass the men holding Touya captive, but it’s out of his mouth before he can control it, instinct to defend his play still strong, despite everything.

 _«Yeah well. Be careful with that.»_ the kidnapper says, _«I’ll let that slide since there’s still three games left and you have the advantage, but this better not be just a ruse to lose time.»_

“I want him back as much as you want your money.” Shindou retorts, gripping the phone tightly, “But we might not have much time regardless, the people close to him have already started to wonder.”

The man sounds displeased, but ultimately unimpressed. _«Hm. Just don’t let it slip that you know shit and we won’t get mad. Well, not too mad.»_

The man’s bitter chuckle makes Hikaru’s blood boil. “Let me talk to him.”

 _«Hikaru.»_ the blonde’s eyes close in relief at the call of his name.

“I’m so sorry, Akira, I—”

Touya’s voice interrupts him. _«We only have three minutes to discuss your game. Listen to me carefully.»_ He says, with a tense edge to his voice that could easily be explained by his situation, _«You’re abusing the kosumi and getting too eager on the keima jumps. You weren’t thinking, and you tried too much to be like the_ old you _. Don’t do that. The you that you are now is more than strong enough.»_

So his rival was kept in civil enough conditions to be able to review his kifu from today. That’s also relieving, Hikaru muses. He almost smiles at how fast Touya caught up to the fact he tried to imitate Sai’s go when he couldn’t figure out what to do –too bad it didn’t work out for him. “I know. The old man could tell I was torn, and he completely crushed me.”

 _«Remember our game at the salon. The loser will be embarrassed and cold.»_ which probably won’t make sense to the people holding him hostage, but gives a fond smile to the blonde’s face. Especially considering the affectionate inflection in Akira’s voice. _«Who is looking for me already?»_

 _‘Why would he want to know that?’_ Shindou is confused by the sudden change of topic, but he knows his rival has his reasons and is trying to make the most out of the time they have, “Ogata-san. Why?”

There’s a small pause where Hikaru can almost hear Touya’s breath hitch. _«Then it doesn’t matter what you say…»_ he says slowly, as if he’s choosing his words carefully, _«You know how he is.»_

The emphasis on that last phrase catches Shindou up to his rival’s reasoning –Ogata has always been an annoyingly insightful fuck, ever since they were kids. He was one of the only three people to ever figure he and Sai were connected and stopped at nothing to try and get the information out of him. This could work. Especially considering how close Ogata-san is to Akira’s father.

“Right.” He says finally, “What about you, Akira? How you holding up?”

 _«I’ll be fine.»_ Touya’s quick to answer, _«I believe in you, Hika—»_

 _«Aaaand scene. God, you brats are gonna make me puke.»_ the kidnapper forcefully takes the phone back, and Hikaru can hear Akira’s protests getting farther and farther until the slam of a metal door. _«Talk to you for your next game, 'sensei'. And try not to lose next time, will ya?»_

The line goes dead again, and Hikaru fights the urge to throw his phone across the room. This can work. He just has to leave enough clues for Ogata to get suspicious, and maybe make it so that the man can tail him for the next phone call. 

This can work. They have hope.

 

It doesn’t matter that it’s already the second time they’ve cut him away from his rival’s voice, Akira knows he’d probably never get used to it. Now he’s livid, glaring at his kidnapper through the porthole in the door. “Really, why are you doing this?” he asks, if only because it’s not like he has anything else to do. “It’s not just the money. Having Kuwabara-sensei forfeit the next match would get your money to you faster. So what is it? Some sort of sick pleasure you get from all this?”

The man laughs at him. “That, and it kicks you undeserving brats down a few notches.”

That gets Akira’s attention. He wonders if provoking him is as easy as it looks. “Undeserving of what? Living our own fucking life?”

The angry bang on the door he receives in response as the masked face comes closer and one hand shoves through the porthole to grab at his throat startles him and scares him, but there’s the answer he was looking for: “You… you little fucks have it so easy. You just show up and you’re just _so_ brilliant that you take the exam once and sail through everything without a care in the world; and everyone fucking loves you. And you’re so self-absorbed in your little stroll to victory, you have no idea that some of the people you leave in the dust had to quit their jobs, their livelihood, to get that one chance, and not passing means they lost _everything_. I despise you.”

Touya’s hands claw at the one holding his throat, but even from that position he manages to choke out his retort, eyes burning an angry emerald. “Well, at least the last part is mutual.”

He is released –more like shoved back – and gasps for air as the man on the other side of the door laughs darkly to himself.

“Stay on that high horse while you can, boy.” He mutters, “At the end of the day, you will still have been just the bargaining chip.”

Akira picks himself up from where he hit the wall and fell to the floor, refusing to let them see him weak. He’s still rubbing a hand around his neck, but it feels better already and he goes back to his cot. Tomorrow Hikaru doesn’t have a game, but people will start to notice he’s missing… he can only trust his rival to figure out what to do.

Finally in silence, the loneliness of his situation finally starts catching up on him, and he can’t help but sit down and hug his knees –it’s almost absurd how just two days ago he was walking back from what was basically a date with Hikaru, having fun and feeling nice. And his rival was about to tell him something.

What shitty timing for a fucking abduction.

 

That night, Hikaru sleeps even worse than the first, and there’s still tears in his eyes when he wakes up. He had made plans to go take a peep at his rival’s event and say hi, and he gets ready to go even though he knows Akira won’t be there, if only because it’d raise immediate suspicion otherwise.

He arrives at the venue just as the organizers were buzzing in a panic, calling and calling the ‘young master’ and not even getting a peep.

“So he’s not here, huh?” the blond doesn’t even have to pretend to have worry written all over his face.

“Shindou-sensei! Do you know by any chance what happened to Touya-sensei?”

His eyes drop slightly. “Can’t say that I do, no.” he answers by omission, “Haven’t seen his face ever since the day before my last match.” Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Ogata entering the building as well, probably to try and check up on his pupil, and gets an idea, “Want me to cover for him until he shows up?”

The organizers look very grateful. “We can arrange that with the institute.”

“That’s good. And hey, maybe they’ll know what happened to Touya as well, maybe he gave them a notice or something.” It’s not really spelling out that his rival is missing and there’s enough people to hear that he’s saying simple, unspecific pleasantries –clearly the two that took Akira were muscle and brain, but they probably have eyes and ears around the key Go-related places.

Once Shindou makes his way to the teaching tables, he gets immediately approached by Seiji.

“So. Tell me what’s up.”

 _‘Hook, line and sinker. Thank you for being such a nosy ass.’_ Hikaru shoots him a slightly guarded look. “What are you talking about, Ogata-san?”

The Gosei narrows his eyes at him. “Touya. He’s missing and you don’t know where he is?” he asks, hands in his pockets but posture tense, “I find that hard to believe.”

Hikaru’s back stiffens in reflex. “I wasn’t aware we were supposed to be joined at the hip. Sorry to break it to you, but I haven’t seen him for the last day and a half.” He repeats, cluing the older pro in but not too much –the way Seiji scoffs at his claims of not being joined at the hip tells him that Ogata knows exactly how close they are to each other, so that’s good, _‘And it’s killing me inside that I don’t know how to get him back, thank you very fucking much.’_

“You seem worried, kiddo.” Seiji puts both hands on the table in front of him and leans forward towards Shindou, “Do you think something happened to him? It’s not like him to just not show up without a word, after all.”

Seeing a chance, the Honinbou challenger clears his voice. “I-if something did happen… don’t you think the first people to know would be his parents? Who would think of coming to _me_ first, instead of his family?”

With some luck, this will alert Touya Kouyo that his son is missing, and Ogata himself that Hikaru knows more than he let on. The two men combined should have enough paternal worry to stop at nothing, and they should be able to team up to find Akira in no time.

Hikaru sighs, grabbing a goke for comfort and speaking at a lower volume. “Right now, the best I can do for Akira is cover for him today, so he doesn’t look bad.” And it saddens him that it’s actually all he can do, “If you’re so worried about your pupil, Ogata-san, I suggest you try asking his family. His father has been back in Japan for a whole week already, right?”

“I think I’ll do that. Still, you’re probably the first one he’d call, so do keep me posted, yeah?”

There. That’s a perfect opportunity. He huffs out a laugh and waves a hand in front of his face: “Yeah sure, or you can just put my freaking phone under surveillance. Really, Ogata-san, when did you become such a mother hen?”

It’s phrased as a joke, but, at least in the past, the title holder wouldn’t have been past such methods to find out what he wanted. It’s probably too early, since the only thing apparent right now is that Akira hasn’t shown up for work and isn’t answering calls, but when all of his acquaintances come up dry… Hikaru can only hope that his rival’s kidnappers won’t connect the dots when curiosity around Akira’s disappearance starts popping up –and that Ogata is as stubborn as he was back in the good old times.

Even though time is something they don’t have much of, at the moment.

 

_~tbc~_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. This took me a longer amount of time than I thought.
> 
> So! Hikaru is now at 3 wins and 1 loss, just in case it got jumbled in the story.   
> There's three more games to play, so everything is still up in the air. Also we got a glimpse of the bad guy's motive -it doesn't stand too much on its own two feet as a reasoning, but it's been what, ten years ever since Akira took the pro exam? If this guy was there and threw away his livelihood for something that didn't work out and had to live with the consequences ever since... that's a pretty freaking long time to cultivate a grudge. Throw in some desperation about makng ends meet, a sprinkle of cruel taste for revenge, and the right (wrong) people to associate with, and...  
> ...well, there we go.
> 
> I can't decide whether Akira and Hikaru speaking in their own little 'code' and sending each other messages about things only they can know about is more cute or just worrying -considering what could and would happen if they were found out.
> 
> Either way, stay tuned in for more! :)


	3. Better Than That

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's happening to them is terrible and unfair.  
> Someone decides they deserve better, and lends a hand -for what it's worth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know.  
> I had these scenes in mind and just pieced them together.  
> I hope it makes sense to people and it's not just me.  
> But it might be just me.  
> I just love Sai so much. Everyone should love Sai.

Hikaru is not surprised when he sees Ogata-san once more in the waiting room. Yesterday has been an absolute nightmare, people asked him where Akira was all the time and he almost ran out of believable answers, not to mention that he didn’t hear from the captors all day –probably because there was no game.

The sight of the Gosei in the watching room is comforting, to say the least. _‘Oh how far we’ve come ever since I was 14 and scared shitless of you.’_ He almost smiles at the thought. “Morning, Ogata-san.”

“You look like shit.” Seiji comments, tapping the edge of his cigarette on the ashtray, “No news from Akira?”

“I was planning to be the one to ask you that, sensei.” Shindou doesn’t miss a bit, but he knows his tired and worried expression gives him away, if even just a little, “After all, you’re the bloodhound.”

“I tried asking his father, but Touya sensei hasn’t heard of him the past few days either.” Is the predictable response, and Hikaru feels horrible about keeping the truth a secret, but Akira’s life depends on how well he can push them in the right direction without actually talking. Hopefully They’ll forgive him in the end. “Frankly, we’re getting a little worried. Are you sure he never mentioned anything to you?”

The younger pro absently brings a hand to the still sore spot on his head. “It’s nothing he told me, no.” he says, purposefully implying that it might be something else. He feels Ogata’s gaze zero in onto him and sighs, looking at him with a slightly saddened expression. “I have to go to my game.”

Kuwabara-sensei is even more infuriating when they sit across each other at the goban. “Have you settled your monsters? This match won’t be interesting if you haven’t.” he asks, for once not sounding in the least like he’s making fun of him, and Hikaru almost misses the time when he could just think the current Honinbou was only a senile old coot incredibly gifted in Go.

He tries to steel himself. “Monsters will have to wait. I have a game to win.” And a rival to save, but that’s only for him to know and his cross to bear, apparently.

The old man manages a smirk and a sound of appreciation of his resolve, and they start the clock.

 

What wakes Akira this time is the sound of his cell door opening. ‘Big Burly’ –as he named him in his head, opposed to ‘Small Sleazy’– is there with a tray of… something that approximates to food.

“Eat.” Is all the man says, clearly not the talkative type.

That suits Touya just fine, and the 9-dan refuses to move or even look at him; but his guard dog clearly has no patience for resistance, and loudly settles the tray beside his cot. “You either eat, or I shove it down your throat.”

Having seen enough to know the man can and will make good on his threat, Akira looks up at him just enough to shoot him a glare. “You’re a fucking animal.” He snaps, before turning to the food –trying to play high and mighty will only work so much, and getting some sustenance into himself is actually a good idea: it won’t do him any good if a chance comes up and he has no strength left.

Unfortunately, his kidnappers are not complete idiots so there’s no cutlery, and the food is mostly riceballs and other bite-sized things you can eat with your hands, so he has no grounds to ask either. Halfway through his (sort of) meal, Akira starts feeling eyes on him. Big Burly hasn’t left the room, and is studying his prone form a little too intently.

Now, Touya has been oblivious in the past, but to Shindou’s insistence and despite his own claims that he’d never need to, his rival taught him to recognize that certain look people get when they simply _want_ something from you. And right now, he really doesn’t like the way Big Burly’s eyes are studying him every time his hand goes to his mouth to eat.

 _‘Oh hell, no.’_ glancing around quickly for any way to defend himself, he finishes his food as fast as he can. “There, you can fucking go, now. Scram.”

“You’re in no position to give orders, princess.” Not good. The thug is smirking down at him and already fiddling with his own belt. Luckily for him, Touya already knows where this is going and he also knows he can’t win unless he fights dirty. He acts fast.

The moment his captor’s hands are on him to try and pry apart his thighs, he flips the tray right into his face and swings out the one punch that will work on anyone –again, he has to thank Hikaru for teaching him the most basic self-defence: nutshots.

It’s a relief to see Big Burly actually keel over, even if it will only be a few seconds, and next he goes for the knife he clearly saw on the man’s belt –as soon as he has it, he stands up and takes a few steps back. “Don’t fucking touch me!!!” he snarls, adrenaline building up in him.

“What’s happening here?” ah, finally, Small Sleazy also comes to the party. Hopefully he’ll be a more reasonable man.

Touya nods towards Big Burly’s still prone but rapidly recovering figure. “He seemed to think he’s my type. He’s clearly not.” Is all he offers to the man as an explanation, “Tell him to back off, or else…”

Small Sleazy understands all too well, and maybe wants in on the fun, judging by how he shoots him a cruel smirk and raises his eyebrows. “Or what? Think we can’t take that knife back from you?”

Considering he’s alone against two opponents with clearly more experience in violent endeavours? Akira knows he’s not even a match, but he has quick thinking on his side, and points the knife to his own throat. “Not before I use it on myself, no.” the tone of his voice retrieves the arctic quality he uses against opponents that are clearly beneath him, and for one blissful second he feels in control. “Touch me with one finger, and you can kiss your ransom goodbye.”

Big Burly finally stands back up. He looks like he wants to charge, but clearly he’s not the one who calls the shot, despite trying to drop his two cents: “You don’t have the balls.”

Akira doesn’t even have to think, before making a quick swipe at his own shoulder out of pure survival instinct. It stings like all hell and his shirt is quick to soak red, but it’s worth the shocked look on those two assholes’ faces. “Try me." he snarls "I dare you.”

Small sleazy is the first one to get his expression back under control. “Now, now, you don’t wanna do that. Blood loss makes you dizzy, you know?” he remarks cruelly, taking a slow step towards him, “Who knows what people can do to you when you’re dizzy and you can’t fight back…”

 _‘Crap, that’s also true.’_ He hasn’t cut deep enough for that to be a worry, no one without military training would be able to do so on instinct and he just gave himself a little scratch to prove a point, but he can’t really risk being called out on that –he’s got to think fast. “Fine. You know what? Why don’t you play me for it?”

His kidnapper’s eyebrows shoot up in interest. “Play you for it?”

“You said you took the pro exam, so you’re decently good at Go.” Akira nods, “I’m all alone, scared and losing blood. Win an even game against me like this, and I’ll become the little sex doll you want me to be.”

Small Sleazy is definitely interested –Big Burly doesn’t seem to follow, but obeys when his buddy motions for him to step out of the cell, “And if I lose?”

“If you lose, you keep your hands _and_ your attack dog off me.” Is Touya’s obvious proposal, “Agree to these terms, and I’ll even give back the knife right after the game.”

The mask makes it a bit hard to tell, but it’s still obvious that his kidnapper is smirking behind it. “I gotta admit, you have spunk. I can respect that.” He says, “Fine. I’m a man of my word. And you probably don’t even remember ever playing against me.”

 _‘So he really did take the pro exam the same year as me.’_ That’s some more precious information that can help find out his identity. If only he could relay this to Hikaru. “Can’t say I do, no.”

“I, on the other hand, I’ve seen kifu upon kifu from your pretty little hands, you’re fucking _everywhere_.”

 _‘And that makes you pretty mad, huh?’_ Akira shakes his head and takes a deep breath, clearing his mind for his gamble, while big burly brings a goban over for them to play on. “Let’s nigiri then.”

He ends up with white, which suits him just fine even if they haven’t spoken about komi –he’ll just have to make sure he’s at least one moku on top. _‘Surely I can do it against this shithead. You’re gonna have a_ bad time _, pal.’_ he think, absently recalling that one character from the videogame Hikaru seemed so fond of and channelling all of his intimidation power in his eyes. This is crazy and reckless, but it's a smidge of control after three days as a glorified piece of furniture, and Akira isn't going to back down.

They exchange the first few hands, and Touya recognizes a strategy he hadn’t seen ever since one of those bullies back in middle school tried to trick him into losing by mirroring his moves. This opponent is slightly smarter than a middle schooler, so when he sees Akira starting to circle his stones he breaks the pace and cuts his losses, but the 9-dan still easily gains back sente. 

The game itself isn’t one of Akira’s personal best, he wouldn’t show it proudly to his father or even Hikaru, but he manages to stay on top, winning by two moku, not including komi –which would put him 7.5 ahead, so it’s win-win for him really. Okay, maybe the breath of relief he didn’t even realize he was holding gives away that he actually was scared of the remote chance of losing, but still. He won fair and square, and judging by his kidnapper’s ramblings and the grudge he carries that is very much about Go, he won’t dare to take back his word and actually be the pathetic loser who doesn’t pay his bets.

 _‘And consider yourself lucky. In normal conditions you would have had to put stones down just to avoid having to resign before we even got to midgame.’_ Well, he is a 9-dan after all. “Thank you for the game.” He forces out, out of respect for Go itself. “Now, bets.”

Small Sleazy clicks his mouth, unsatisfied, but he seems to be content with the knowledge that keeping his own body to himself is just about all Akira can do, and of how humiliating that feels for the 9-dan. Deciding it's enough, he turns to his buddy. “You heard the boy. No touching.”

 _‘Yes buddy-boo, stay the fuck away, thank you very much.’_ Hikaru would probably yell at him that he’s crazy to have even bargained for this, because what if he lost and such, but hey… Akira doesn’t lose, not against guys like these. It’s too bad he has to hold up his end of the bargain, but fair’s fair. He puts the knife on the floor and slides it towards the man opposite to him, then digging both his hands into his own pockets. “If that’s all, I’d like to be left alone in my cell until results are out. Thanks.” He emphasizes the thanks in a way that is neither polite nor grateful, but it’s clearly lost on his current conversation partners.

Mercifully enough, his good luck is enough for today, and they do leave him alone. Now if only he could find a way to look out of his tiny window and get at least a general idea of where he is… It’s not too far out of reach, maybe if he jumps he can grab at the bars and get a look of the outside. He tries one, but it makes too much noise and surely his captors would wonder what he’s up to.

Kicking his toe against the wall to push up might work, but he’d have to be fast to grab on and able to do at least one pull-up. _‘I’m so taking Hikaru up on his offer of following him to the gym if I make it out of here alive…’_ with that thought in mind, Akira starts trying, as silently as he can. And hey, if all else fails, at least he sneakily pocketed enough stones, during the game, to be able to choke a man with them, should the need arise.

 

Hikaru has tears in his eyes when he finally bows his head. This match was not a complete flop like the other one, but he still lost by a greater margin than he normally would have. Both of his fists clench the fan, and he finds himself wishing his ghost friend was back with him.

 _‘I don’t know what to do, Sai… I’m so scared I’ll lose him too…’_ he tries not to think about it, but if he ever lost Akira… he probably would stop being able to play Go, for good this time.

“You’ve gotta shape up, boy.” Kuwabara-sensei says, folding his arms. “I don’t know what happened to you between before and now, but you gotta make a decision: either you can handle it, or you can’t. I’ll always beat you if you’re on the fence.”

The comment would be fair if all that was there to talk about was Go, but it’s _not_ and Hikaru’s temper flares up. “You have _no idea_ what I’m going through!” he manages to hiss at the man, before remembering he’s not supposed to give out clues like that and zips his mouth shut again.

“Shall we discuss the game?”

This time, Shindou shakily nods, and tries to be the first to talk. “I, uh… tried too hard to correct my mistakes from yesterday, and…” he surveys the board, for the first time in his life not quite able to remember all of his moves without looking at the goban, “I tried to play it cautious, but it didn’t get me enough territory in the end.”

It’s rookie mistakes and everybody knows it, but considering it’s a title match and Hikaru still looks like shit, they leave it unsaid. One of the officials even inquires about his health, after the discussion: “Are you sure you’re not ill, Shindou-kun? If you’re having serious health issues, we could postpone the next—”

“No!!!” the blond is quick to say, raising both hands as a ‘please stop’ gesture. “I-I mean, it’s not necessary. I’m doing better today, as you can see, and I will be even better for the next match. I just need my rest, so if you don’t mind… I’ll take my leave.”

He doesn’t linger to listen to any possible refusal anyway, and from the watching room Ogata is perplexed.

“What the hell is wrong with him?!” to his right, one of Shindou’s friends, Waya if he’s not mistaken, is chatting with their other mutual acquaintance, Isumi.

They’ve been talking the whole time, actually, both wondering why wouldn’t Touya come to watch Shindou’s match, considering he’s been a faithful cheerleader up until now, and if that has any correlation to how badly the challenger is doing. They even theorised a falling out, but, in Isumi’s own words “That’s not angry-Shindou, it’s worried-Shindou. He probably wants Touya to be here more than any of us combined.”

When Hikaru zooms past the room without even saying hi to them, they know something’s definitely wrong. “Shindou! Hey, man what the hell—”

“Can’t talk, sorry, gotta go, bye!” is the only reply Waya’s attempt gets, and the brunet shakes his head. Did we fall into a wormhole that brought us to when we were kids again and Shindou had all those secrets he wouldn’t tell anybody about?

Coming to think of it, in the end he never did tell anybody about it –except maybe Touya. Not that Touya would spill anything about it. Ogata tries to follow the younger pro out of the Institute, but he can’t find him this time, _‘Damn it, he gave me the slip… I’m getting too old for this.’_ And yet, he manages a smirk –the chase is on.

Instead of actually exiting the building, Hikaru went and locked himself in a bathroom, waiting for the phone-call that was sure to come with the results. “I know, I lost, I’m a fuck-up, let me just speak to Akira.” It comes out of his mouth straight after swiping ‘answer’.

There’s a tsk of disapproval that is clearly not Akira. _«Sensei, what a disappointment. It’s 3-2 now, you oughta be careful.»_

“I’m trying.” He answers truthfully enough, not that it keeps the anger from his voice, “I still got a chance. Now let me speak to Akira.”

_«Sure thing. But since you lost again, now you have two minutes.»_

_‘Of course, wouldn’t want you to miss the chance to be an absolute asshole.’_ He thinks, hearing the tell-tale shuffle, and Touya’s voice sounds beautiful even when he’s angry.

 _«Goddamn it Hikaru, first you charge left and right like a madman, and now you’re pussy-footing around?!»_ yes. In his concentration to try and play properly, he played too carefully and conservatively, which of course wouldn’t work against someone like Kuwabara-sensei.

“I know.”

 _«You have to pick a side and stick to it.»_ it’s almost the same thing the current Honinbou said, and Hikaru isn’t surprised. Then Akira’s voice gets that cautious tone again: _«Kuwabara-sensei is trying to figure you out. Once you let him, it’s over.»_

For the two of them, it couldn’t be clearer if his rival outright told him to tell Kuwabara the truth, but luckily the choice of words can easily be interpreted as just about Go. Their time is shorter, so this time the blond just switches to the topic he cares more about: “You hanging in there?”

 _«I’m…»_ tired, scared, barely escaped rape, gambled the way out of future molestation and gained a cut in the process. _«…no worse for the wear, things considered.»_

That answer sends Hikaru almost into panic –Akira always tries to downplay his own discomfort, like the stoic little doll he is, so for him to hesitate even one second on his words is bad. Something definitely happened, and he has no way to tell what. He clenches his fists. “I’ll find you, I promise.”

He hears a slightly forced out chuckle, like the affectionate tone in Touya’s voice is a bit nervous. _«Remember when I started running away from you? Remember that year?»_

The blond is confused. He knows Akira is trying to tell him something, but obviously they can’t talk with an audience. “How to forget?” he says, and he doesn’t even have to fake the fondness in his own tone.

 _«I butchered through everyone else… but it was lonely without you.»_ and okay, maybe this is not the time to think about it, but that feels as close as a love confession as he’ll ever get from Touya, and that makes his heart flutter a little. _«I didn’t care about any of those people, never even looked at any of them twice, back then. And yet…»_

His rival doesn’t get to finish the phrase, but this time doesn’t protest as much when the kidnapper gets the phone back. Which tells Hikaru that whatever Akira wanted to get across is there somewhere. _«And time! Sorry to interrupt your little pow-wow, but that’s all we have for today.»_ he says, his voice taking a more menacing tone, _«Try not to lose the next game, will ya? I might get the impression you’re actually stalling, and it would make me very angry… and then who knows what might happen.»_

“If you _dare_ touch one hair on Akira’s head—” the kidnapper hangs up on him before he can finish.

In his anger, Hikaru punches the door of the stall he was hiding in, hard. Hard enough for it to slam open and almost hit Ogata right in the face, cheap lock destroyed. The Gosei manages to step back in time, arms raised in surprise.

“So you were still here and about after all.”

Hikaru would be incredibly grateful of being found out, if he wasn’t so pissed. “What do you want?” 

“I understand that was a hard loss, but taking it like this is unbecoming of you, Shindou.” Seiji is appraising him, and trying to understand whether the younger pro’s agitation is because of the game or related to Akira’s absence in any way. Then he notices the phone still in Hikaru’s other hand. “Were you talking to someone just now?”

“No.” it’s a blatant lie. Shindou is staring straight at him, lying to his face and conveying with his eyes that he is indeed outright lying to him. “Why don’t you try and find out? You’re always up in my business anyway.”

With that, he shoulders his way past Ogata and out of the building for good.

 

That night, Hikaru dreams of Sai. He finds himself in the same non-descriptive dreamscape, but instead of a peaceful glow there’s warm lights, droplets of water in the distance and the feeling of hard stone under his feet. When he looks around to find his friend, Sai’s face is set in a stern expression and he’s holding a sword.

 _‘Sai! Sai, you have no idea how much I missed you… something terrible happened, and I—’_ the ghost interrupts his thoughts, holding out the sword for him to take. Hikaru stares at it and tries to interpret it. When he dreamt of Sai giving him his fan, Hikaru felt it was a genuine goodbye and a reminder of their friendship, but this is… probably just a dream? So it’s something his own brain is trying to tell him through the image of Sai…  or is it? _‘Sai? Is this about fighting for the title match, or fighting for Akira?’_

Just like before, the ghost doesn’t speak. It doesn’t seem like he can, coming to think of it. But he does smile slightly, holding out the sword a little more. _‘I’m not giving up on either, you_ _know?'_ He's better than that, damn it.

 _«Remember that year?»_ the sound of water drops hitting the stone suddenly becomes stronger, and with each drop he hears Touya’s voice from his own memory, _«Butchered through everyone»_ drip _«Didn’t care about any of those people»_ drop _«And yet…»_ drip _«Remember that year»_ drop _«any of those people…»_

 _‘What are you trying to show me, Sai?! I don’t understand!’_ he brings both his hands to his temples, scared and angry. Sai only fixes him a stern look and all but shoves the sword to his face. Hikaru finally takes it. _‘I’m not giving up.’_ He repeats, remembering that it’s not in this dreamscape that he has to understand any of it, but in the real world. _‘Sai, thank y—’_ The ghost is looking away, as if something else called for him, and Hikaru wakes with a start.

The nightstand clocks tells him it’s just three am, but he’s not the only one having troubles sleeping.

 

Seiji is not the kind of man to ever have believed in dreams and omens, but when he sees himself in a cleaned-out version of the Go Institute, just rough outlines of tiles and ceilings on an endless obsidian black, he can guess something’s up. There’s a tall, shadowy figure at his side with some kind of flowy robes. It’s not anyone he knows.

 _‘Or is it? Who are you?’_ the figure doesn’t speak, their face hidden by impossibly long hair and a fan, of all things. They float forwards, and beckon for Seiji to follow. Absently, the Gosei notes that it looks like the Institute’s second floor bathroom. _‘What a depressing setting for a dream.’_

The figure seems to chuckle at him, and for a second he feels self-conscious. For some reason, he doesn’t want to fail at… whatever it looks like he is being addressed for. Long hair sways slightly when the figure nods towards the doors, and the fan closes against their lips, in a gesture for him to keep quiet.

When he thinks he can hear Shindou’s voice, from behind one of the doors, Seiji realizes what’s going on. _‘This is a memory. My brain is trying to remember what I heard. But I couldn’t quite understand what he was saying.’_

The figure motions him closer. He steps forward, getting closer to the source of the voice. The first few sentences are jumbled and muffled, then Ogata’s eyes widen –just at the moment the door slams open and he wakes up in a cold sweat.

Sitting up in his bed, he covers his mouth with one hand as he stares into the darkness of his own bedroom. He can remember it clearly now, muffled, but definitely there. It was too brief to register at the moment, but whatever that figure in his dream was –subconscious manifestation of his memory, or the only way his own mind could reorganize his thoughts or whatever – it put the emphasis on the instant before that moment; on how he _knew_ it was Shindou before the door even slammed open.

Shindou’s voice, angry, furious and several degrees of scared. _“If you dare touch one hair on Akira’s head—”_

Someone is threatening the boy. Someone is holding Akira over Shindou’s head for whatever reason, and Shindou is lost and terrified. His last two games suddenly make _so_ much more sense.

Not wasting any more time thinking, Seiji grabs his cellphone and dials. “Sensei? Sorry for the late hour, but it’s important.” He says, not really caring to have woken the man up in the middle of the night, “I think I know what happened to your son.”

 

Akira isn’t quite sleeping tonight. His shoulder still hurts, and the makeshift bandage he made for himself, ripping his shirt’s sleeve, doesn’t quite help that much with keeping the dust and dirt from his cell away –he feels a numb burning, and if he had to guess he’d say it’s at least a little bit infected.

 _‘I’m lucky I thought about doing this to my left arm.’_ He muses, glad that his stronger side is still mostly fine. He wouldn’t have been able to try and pull himself to the tiny window otherwise –granted, his arms and legs are sore from his not quite successful attempts and he’s pretty sure he scratched up his right forearm with the amount of friction against the stone wall whenever he attempted to jump-grab at the bars.

So far, he hasn’t been too successful in pulling up long enough to see anything –not that he has any guarantee it’ll do him any good, but it’s still better than sitting around doing nothing. At least he accomplished one thing today… he won himself the right to not be molested. Which admittedly is not much and not the first thing he would have worried about, but apparently it’s a thing.

These people were absolutely disgusting. He tried to level with their reasoning; losing your only source of income on what amounts to pretty much a gamble must be horrible, and when it doesn’t work out, well, who knows what happened to these guys in the last ten years… but still.

_‘You can literally do any number of things instead of picking up a gun and resorting to crime.’_

Something black and rotten has to already have been there if that’s the one option you choose. Yawning tiredly, Akira curls up a little more in his cot.

He ends up dreaming of the little window –if he was awake he would have probably laughed at his own obsessive tendencies, even dreaming about the blasted thing. He sees himself jumping and trying, again and again, eyes never reaching the light long enough to quite see.

Then he feels himself slow down. As if the passage of time itself was slowing down, to give him a frame-by-frame image. It’s blurry and barely there, but his mind managed to fish out at least something. Green. Blue. The sound of rushing water in the vicinity. _'It has to be near a river.'_ He was blindfolded when they took him that night, but it wasn’t too long before he was shoved in his cell and the first phone call with Hikaru was barely half an hour after they took him. _‘We’re somewhere alongside the Arakawa river.’_ Granted, that doesn’t tell him much considering the river goes through several prefectures, but it’s still something. At the very least, he’ll be able to point it out to the authorities once he get out.

 _‘…Or_ if _I get out…’_ apparently he’s not very optimistic when he’s alone in his own mind. He moves to hug himself, feeling the darkness around him tightening uncomfortably but then, just as he is about to crumble to the floor, he suddenly feels a very comforting presence. When he turns, time is still in slow motion, but he already _knows_ , before even locking eyes with the one he heard so much about. _‘…Sai?’_

The… apparition? Hallucination? Whatever it is, smiles down at him fondly –it makes Akira remember that, while he never saw the ghost, Hikaru told him Sai met him several times and they talked about him a lot. He suddenly feels shy.

Sai doesn’t speak to him, but makes a motion with his hand towards his ear, almost mimicking a phone conversation. _‘What?’_ Akira doesn’t understand, but the ghost still doesn’t speak to him, seemingly enjoying very much the imaginary conversation, if the way he closes his eyes is any hint.

Giving in, Akira brings his own hand to his ear, feeling just a little bit stupid, but it’s a dream anyway so what the hell. It startles him when it actually works.

_«I’ll find you, I promise.»_

It’s Hikaru’s voice. The words ‘I promise’ echo in his head like a mantra –and after all, never once in their entire rivalry has Hikaru ever broken a promise. He promised to catch up to him and he did, he promised to tell him the truth one day and he did… _‘He promised he’ll find me, and he will.’_

He finally understands what this dream is about. Looking up at the ghost, he smiles. _‘Thank you, for reminding me of this.’_

Akira isn’t as big on spiritualism as his father is –or at least, he used to not be before Hikaru went and told him about bona fide ghosts– but when he wakes up with Sai’s smiling face as the last memory from his dream, he feels hopeful things are going to turn out ok, after all.

He just has to believe in Hikaru.

 

_~tbc~_


	4. Thrill of the Chase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Touya Kouyo gets involved.  
> Hikaru gets back up on his feet, even though it might be not quite enough just yet.  
> Akira's captors are... unhappy with this, and decide to send a message.

Once again, there’s a one-day lull between games. Hikaru supposes they’re lucky for the schedule this year, he remembers the times for last year’s Kisei finals and shivers at the possibility of a 4-day wait between one match and the other.

In normal conditions, he would’ve appreciated the chance to rest and recharge, but right now every second he spends not fighting for the title it’s a second more Akira spends in the hands of his captors.

There’s one fortuitous occurrence, though. He receives a text message from Ogata that clearly implies he figured something out. «Meet me in front of Akira’s old school. Don’t go near any Go-related places.»

 _‘Finally, we might be able to fight back.’_ He gets dressed at lightning speed and tries very hard to look casual as he goes out, on the off-chance someone is watching.

Ogata’s red car stands out like a sore thumb, and Hikaru shakes his head. It almost looks like the Gosei is a predator waiting to snatch up some children –he supposes it’s up to him to save poor Seiji from any misunderstandings. Approaching the car, he knocks twice on the window to get the sensei’s attention.

“Yo.” The man opens the car door without missing a beat. Hikaru sighs as he sits down.

“So, what’s this about?”

Ogata shakes his head. “Not here.” He says, and just start driving.

The fact that they drive around for a good fifteen minutes without a clear destination makes Shindou aware of the fact that the older pro is thinking of shaking off a hypothetical tail; which in turn means Seiji is serious. After the man is satisfied, they drive all the way to Touya Kouyo’s house.

Hikaru feels the atmosphere turn heavy as soon as he steps in, and finally the gravity of what is about to go down hits him: he’s running the risk of getting his rival killed –but he’s on a losing streak right now, and if he misses the chance on the title he needs to have _some_ body to help him find Akira.

The former Meijin is about to speak to him, but Hikaru anticipates him: “Before I tell you anything, you have to promise me it won’t leave these walls and you’ll pretend not to know; and by God do not involve the police or they’ll— they’ll…”

For the life of him, the blonde can’t finish the phrase, like his brain doesn’t even want to contemplate the chance. He feels tears well in his eyes.

Whatever was forming on Kouyo’s lips before, it morphs into worry and understanding. “So it’s true, you’re being threatened.”

Shindou nods silently, trying to get himself under control.

“What happened exactly?” Ogata asks, fiddling with an unlit cigarette out of nervousness.

“I tried… I really tried to—” for a moment he’s afraid Touya’s father will be angry at him, for failing to protect is son, and looks guarded as he finishes the recounting, locking eyes with the sensei, “They took him from me. There was a gun, and I tried but— I took a hit to the head… when I woke up, they were gone. And called me through Akira’s phone.”

The former Meijin eyes the still healing bruise on the side of his head, purple and painful looking, and his worry intensifies. “Who were they?”

“I don’t know, they were wearing masks.”

Kouyo’s fear for his son is visibly increasing by the second, and Hikaru feels immensely guilty for it. “What do they want?”

“They want me to bring them the Honinbou title cash prize once I win it.” He takes a deep breath, knowing that his two consecutive losses look especially bad now, “I’ve been told that if I tried to go to the police or alert the Go Institute, Akira would be killed. So please, please, you have to pretend you don’t know.”

The sensei ponders it for a long moment. “I have a friend.” He says carefully, “He’s not in the city force, but his field of work can be of use. He’s a... technician of sorts, and can make it so that when the next phone call comes, we will also hear.”

 _‘Holy crap he does have contacts pretty much everywhere…’_ Shindou has the time to feel mildly impressed about that, and Kouyo continues: “I trust his skills enough to be sure he will not give away that we know, and when you next hear of these people, act natural.”

“I’ll try.” Hikaru promises, standing up, “And I _will_ get the title, if it kills me.”

That one makes even Seiji crack a small smile. _‘He really cares.’_ Poor boy. To have something like that sprung on him, halfway through what’s possibly the most important moment of his young career… in Shindou’s shoes, he would’ve thrown in the towel. The younger pro turns to him, and startles him out of his thoughts:

“How did you find out?”

 _‘That’s an interesting question.’_ Ogata muses, shrugging, “Remember our last conversation?” a wary nod urges him to continue, “It occurred to me that I heard the last thing you said. You said ‘if you dare touch one hair on Akira’s head’ and then went silent and started punching doors.” From the corner of his eyes, he can see Akira’s father close his eyes, brows furrowed in worry, and can relate. “Frankly, I don’t know how it took me the whole night to recall it.”

“Um, well.” Hikaru mutters, studying the Gosei like something isn’t quite right with the story, “I’ll get you up to speed on everything that happened so far and what Akira told me— they let me speak with him after every game to prove me he’s still alive.” He offers, still nervous about breaking the captor’s rule but so done with letting them push him around, “After that, it’s better if I leave.”

When he does leave the Touya household, he leaves behind a piece of paper with his phone number, the model of his phone and the company he’s with –that should be enough for Touya-sensei’s ‘technician’ friend to put his cell under surveillance. On the surface, people are still wondering about Akira’s no-show at his event and the strange absence from his rival’s matches, some musing that maybe the young master is just ill and the more creative ones claiming he’s just stressed and took a secret vacation to get away from it… it makes Hikaru laugh at the very notion, clearly they don’t know Akira at all: his rival would _never_ leave on his own during Hikaru’s title matches. Still, they’re mostly in the clear and he hasn’t been seen revealing anything, so that’s good.

 

Ever since the Go battle to keep his own body, Akira’s been trying to be a good boy, not complaining and not making sounds, which has in turn relaxed his kidnappers a bit, enough for them to leave the door porthole open –whether it is out of ‘generosity’ to give him more air, or to keep an eye on him, the Go prodigy doesn’t care. What he does care about is that he can look back through. When neither of his captors is close, he can actually see the exit door… not that it helps him much, but he tries to memorize every detail of the room.

 _‘God, the wait is killing me.’_ Three days and a half. That’s how much his body resisted on pure fight-or-flight before he had to give in and use his cell’s poorly provided tools for hygiene, and it was probably the most humiliating experience of his life yet. He valiantly fought the urge to throw up in order to not get dehydrated –which would make him even weaker, considering the summer temperature is not helping in that regard.

It’s almost lucky they’re keeping him in a place with stone walls, the air is relatively cooler and during the night he even felt the need to put his blazer back on. Shaking his head, Touya takes a long, calculated breath. _‘Okay, think. What do I know so far?’_ he thinks to himself, once more approaching the situation like a tsumego. _‘This guy is someone with a ten years old grudge who’s jumping at the perfect chance to get back at the people he hates and make good money of it. He got himself a six feet buddy to be the muscle, and probably at least one more friend spying on Hikaru to make sure he doesn’t go to the police.’_ His right hand unconsciously closes around his lips in the motion Hikaru always makes fun of him for, _‘They’re keeping me on river coast, and there were construction noises this morning. They probably chose the place so that even if I try to shout no one’ll hear me, over those.’_

Akira almost jumps when the door opens a sliver and Big Burly slides a tray of food in. “Eat.” He orders as usual, and this time the door closes back, leaving Akira alone with his sort-of meal.

“This is bullshit.” he mutters to himself, picking up the tray and deciding to eat standing up, if only not to feel completely like a kept dog. “Hey! What time is it?” the answer is always the same, but it doesn’t hurt to try.

“It’s shut up o’ clock.” Precisely. Finished with his food, Touya leaves the plate by the door and curls back up in his cot –he doesn’t really want to fall asleep in the middle of the afternoon, feeling like he’s wasting away in this stupid cell, but the more he’s awake with nothing to do, the darker his thoughts get. _‘Naptime it is, then.’_

 

Touya Kouyo is furious. Someone is threatening his son’s life and he’s the last one to know. He’d been angry at first, when he heard of Shindou hiding the fact from them, but when he heard what the boy has been put through until now, he could empathize. He doesn’t even want to _think_ about how much he’d have lost it, in the same position. Luckily they found a loophole in the whole thing –he is very fortunate to have a friend in the secret services, and oddly enough he owes it to his Go. Ishibashi-san was undercover in the city some years back, and it just so happened that asking him for a teaching game kept the agent in sight of whoever was his target at the time.

Hikaru won’t have broken his word with Akira’s kidnappers, if they just so happened to find out. He contemplated not telling Akiko, but she has a right to know –she was horrified and the waterworks were quick to come, but just as soon she steeled herself and demanded “Tell me what I can do.”

She always had an unexpectedly strong heart. Thanks to her, he could meet his agent friend on the guise of a dinner for four organized by his lovely wife, on the occasion of both couples being in Japan at the same time, and isn’t that just a treat? The former Meijin can’t quite keep the proud smile off his lips.

He explained everything when they retreated to his study to play some Shidougo, but Ishibashi-san tells him it’s not a good idea to get the authorities involved just yet.

“We could get them to panic, and if the kidnappers feel cornered, there’s no telling what they could do.” He explains, “Shindou-kun has been very good at keeping them at bay. If we can somehow gain some more info on their whereabouts, or even better, get the place and date of the exchange, I can get some of my colleagues to be there undercover and apprehend the culprits.”

Kouyo sighs. So it’s pretty much a waiting game, now. “Hopefully that won’t take too long.”

 

Not knowing what to do with himself tonight, Hikaru hits the gym –he usually tries to bring music, or he’d never be able to sit through the repetitiveness of some of the tasks, which is part of why he was trying to convince Touya to join him, before this whole mess, but tonight he didn’t really think to carry his usual things, and he's just thinking and burning off excess adrenaline.

The bench press proves especially distracting, as the blonde can’t help but recall the remark Akira made about Hikaru being able to bench press _his_ full weight, and for a moment his fists tighten around the outrigger and the awful sensation of _lacking_ nearly makes him drop the weight on his own chest. He drops it back onto its support and sits up with a wheeze.

 _‘This isn’t working.’_ He thinks, searching out an instructor, _‘I need to let off some steam.’_

Despite not being in any specific classes, most of the instructors know him and indulge him –Touya once commented on his ability to make friends out of total strangers, to which Hikaru countered that his rival had instead the talent of being everyone’s perfect little golden boy wherever he goes, and isn’t it just precious that every single thought he has can become about Akira? Either way, no one questions him when he asks to use the punching bags, and the guy on the evening shift even offers to teach him a couple basic hits to practice.

Shindou’s knuckles are red and feel kind of raw when he eventually takes off the gloves and moves to leave, finally spent enough to drop to bed. He dreams about running on a giant goban, chasing Akira’s retreating form over and over.

 

 

The morning of the second to last Honinbou game, the defender was about to speak to Hikaru, as the blond entered the Room of Deep Contemplation and bowed to him, but when the challenger lifts his head and their eyes meet, Kuwabara-sensei is struck speechless for a brief seconds, then his mouth tightens into a smile entirely too fierce for a man his age.

“Are you finally ready to get serious again?”

Hikaru doesn’t answer. He sits silently on the mat, eyes eerily fixated on the board and burning their intense, greenish hazel. When the clock starts, he still doesn’t say a word.

Once the clock stops, Hikaru breathes a sigh of relief, even though he lost.

It burns that it’s a half moku loss, and if he had just tightened up his middle strategy a little bit more he could have won and this could be over, but he _felt_ it. He’s playing like himself again. He can bring this back, even though now they’re tied at 3-3.

He just has to hope Akira’s kidnappers have the same amount of faith in his game –and possibly Akira’s analysis of it.

 

“What the hell is he playing at? This _has_ to be on purpose, the brat is killing time to wait for the cops to find us!”

Clearly, for all his talk the man can’t read kifu quite deeply enough. “It’s _not_!” Akira tries to counter, fists banging painfully on the cell door, “Compare it to the previous two games. There’s an enormous divide in skill and determination!”

After all, the first one he lost was by an embarrassing 6.5, and the other one a meek 2.5 that could have been flipped onto the defender if only Hikaru had been playing normally, but today’s game… today’s fierce, brutal and stubbornly deceptive game. This is the rival he knows and loves.

The one mistake that lost him the match is one trap that he tried to spring too soon and which Kuwabara-sensei managed to dodge for that.

Still, his captors don’t seem as happy as he is. “I think…” Small Sleazy says, while nodding to Big Burly to go open the cell, “We need to send Shindou-sensei a more concrete message.”

Akira panics when he sees the man approach him, and immediately starts to struggle against the hands that grab him by the wrists. “Don’t touch me!” he snarls, fruitlessly trying to tug away as he gets pulled out of the cell and into the living room of sorts “We had a deal!”

“Oh don’t worry, you get to keep your clothes on.” His kidnapper assures, in a tone that is not comforting at all, considering he takes his buddy’s knife and approaches his restrained form, “We just have to remind your so-called rival what exactly is on the line.”

 _‘Is this the part where they cut something off me to send it as a threat?’_ Touya’s panicked mind immediately goes to the worst, unhelpfully charged by action movie tropes with people losing fingers or ears –he struggles some more, terrified by the idea of not being able to hold the stones with missing _fingers_ , but immediately goes still when he feels the hand that comes up behind him, grabs the bulk of his hair in a fistful and yanks back. He holds his breath and squeezes his eyes shut.

 

The game discussion lasts longer than Hikaru would’ve liked, and he grows more restless by the second, but it was a good game and he can understand the people around them wanting to go in depth about it, especially since it’s so apparent that he finally got his swing back; so he can’t help but stay for the entire thing this time.

It would also be suspicious if, the more apparent it becomes that Akira is missing, the more he gets antsy and elusive as well. So he clenches his teeth and sticks around, nodding and comparing and examining the moves. Hopefully Touya-sensei made good on his promise and his phone is under surveillance for when the phone call comes.

The blond gets progressively more worried the longer the phone calls takes to arrive, normally it would be 10-15 minutes after the game results get published, but today… still not a peep.

“Good game, Shindou!” He runs into Waya, who apparently was watching his game with Isumi in the other room, “It’s too bad for that half moku, but _damn_ you gave the old man a run for his money this time!” the brunet says, clapping his shoulder encouragingly, “Finally, you’re yourself again! Did you make peace with Touya or whatever it is that’s happening?”

Seeing the way Shindou’s body goes rigid at the mere mention of Touya, Isumi comes in between the two. “Don’t be nosy, Waya. I’m sure Shindou is tired after a game like that.”

Never before has Hikaru ever been so glad to have a friend like Isumi –who doesn’t know, doesn’t quite understand what’s going on, but has an inkling of how you feel and tries to help from the distance you place him at. There’s so very few people like him. He sighs. “Yes. Tired… I should go…”

There’s still something profoundly suspicious about the way Hikaru just hurries away like death has his name on its list; not to mention Ogata sitting there and just observing the entire exchange silently, not even speaking to the boy after the way he chased the younger pro around the last two days. Either the Gosei isn’t interested anymore, or something happened and he knows better than to ask. Isumi looks at Waya and shakes his head.

This isn’t the first time something’s been up with Shindou and they have absolutely no idea what to do. _‘Damn it Shindou, what the hell did you get yourself into, this time?’_

Hikaru is almost at his apartment as he's about to give in and try to call himself, when the phone finally rings. “What.” He all but growls into the receiver.

_«Sensei… did you get home alright?»_

The dangerous edge to the question is so obvious the blond just can’t miss it. _‘They timed the call so I would be home… more or less. They’re trying to tell me they know where I live.’_ He looks down to fish his keys out of his pocket when he notices a small paper package on his doorstep and freezes. “What did you fuckers do?”

There’s a chuckle on the other end of the line, as the kidnapper can clearly hear Shindou’s hands picking up the paper. _«Nothing, really. Just a present.»_ he remarks coldly, _«Call it a respectful reminder of what happens if you don’t win the last match.»_

Hikaru opens the package with trembling hands. There’s no blood on it, so that at least is comforting, but when he finally sees what’s inside he’s still overwhelmed with a wave of anger and fear. “You’ll pay for this.”

In the envelope, tied neatly with his rival’s necktie, there’s a fairly big portion of Akira’s hair, roughly cut from one side. _‘At least it’s not body parts.’_ He thinks to himself, mildly relieved –still, for anyone who knew Touya well enough it’s a shock to see this. It might sound superficial, or vain, but Akira was pretty damn proud of his hair and even though growing it out samurai-style was a sort of childish goal, it made it all the more important because it was one of the few things his rival cared about that weren’t Go. _‘I’m looking at about six months of wasted work.’_

He holds the tied locks tightly to his chest, while the kidnapper just keeps talking. _«Just be glad we chose the… cleanest option. If you lose the next game too, your precious ‘rival’ won’t be so lucky.»_

Gathering his thoughts back, Hikaru finally opens the door to his apartment and rushes inside. “Let me speak to him.”

_«Nuh-huh. I’m afraid the third loss has deprived you of conjugal visit rights.»_

Hikaru nearly snarls at the phone. “If you don’t let me speak to him, I’ll forfeit the next match.”

There’s a cruel chuckle from the other side. _«You know what would happen if you do.»_

“It will happen all the same if I play and lose, won’t it?” Shindou counters the bluff immediately, “It won’t make a difference for us, but it does for you: 50% chance of getting your money, versus 0%. Your move, ‘boss’.”

The brief silence that follows feels incredibly satisfying for the blonde, as he can just imagine Akira’s captor bristling with anger. _«Fine. You have one minute.»_

Hikaru releases a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding when he hears Touya’s voice. _«I’m alright, Hikaru.»_

“Akira, I’m so sor—”

His rival interrupts him halfway through his apology, mindful of the little time they have. _«Someplace along the way it’ll grow back out, it’s just hair. Next time.»_

There’s something weird with the way Akira’s speaking, but Hikaru can’t quite place it. His tone is quiet, modulated… expressionless. Almost as if he’s making a list. Still, Hikaru doesn’t even think to waste time pondering it or trying to discuss the game, as the clock is ticking and sixty seconds go by fast. “How are you so calm about it?” he can only imagine how afraid Touya must have been, when he saw them coming at him with a knife.

 _«A river of reasons, really.»_ after that, a soft chuckle escapes Akira’s lips, and finally Hikaru recognizes his rival again: _«First and foremost I believe in you, Hikaru. You found your way back. You will definitely win the last game. Sai would be proud.»_

The blonde can’t help but close his eyes and heave a shaky breath, at the fond words of unadulterated trust. “I will. It will be all over soon, Akira, I promise.”

 _«I know. That’s the point, isn’t it?»_ Once more, there’s that hint of emphasis in his rival voice, as his words don’t really match what he says as an answer, but seem there for a specific reason.

 _‘Akira is trying to tell me something. A ‘point’. But what point?’_ he shakes his head. He’ll think about it later, when he doesn’t have a limited amount of time to hear the voice he took so much for granted before. “I miss you so much. Even the yelling.” Especially the yelling –so alive, so different from the mask of politeness he puts on for the rest of the world and so disarmingly passionate…

 _«Me too. I—»_ sadly, that’s about all they get because the kidnapper is a tight-ass with timing and the clock exhausted its seconds for today.

 _«There. Happy now?»_ the man says, but Hikaru isn’t listening to him: he’s listening for background noises. Whenever Akira still had something to say, he’d protest and kick up a fuss as they took him away. This time, the kidnapper’s voice has silence as its only background –so whatever point his rival was making is already across, and he just has to find it. _«Win your next game, sensei, and this will have been just a bad dream. Try anything funny… and you know what’ll happen.»_

The line goes dead once more, and Hikaru flops backwards on his couch, one arm draped over his face. _‘What’s the point?’_ he tries to trace back their entire conversation, looking for signals. His eyes widen, when he finally gets it. _‘It’s not_ a _point, it’s_ any _point!’_ The modulated, expressionless voice was there to emphasize something : the start and stop of every phrase, or, more importantly, the first word after each full stop. _‘ **I’m. Someplace. Next. A river.** Akira, you’re a goddamn genius.’_ After all, this is the first time his name is not the first thing his rival says, Touya deliberately started their conversation differently. He probably won’t win any awards in literature, but even piecing together a rough, not quite correct sentence in the span of under 60 seconds is quite a feat.

He scrambles up to take a quick shower, phone still in his hands as he dials Touya-sensei’s number… then stops. They cut Akira’s hair because he lost the second to last game. He can’t afford to be discovered playing dirty now. _‘I’m so going to get drilled for this.’_ Backspacing, he dials up Waya instead. “Hey, Waya? This is gonna sound weird to you, but I have a huge favour to ask…”

“Shindou? Did something happen? You haven’t been making sense these past few days…”

“No, nothing happened, but… this is important, I need you to do this one thing for me. It’s  _really important_.”

There’s a pause. Shindou feels guilty, as he can almost hear Waya slowly becoming more and more worried. “…Fine. What kind of favour are we talking about?”

Maybe having your best friend call Ogata out of the blue and make _him_ tell the Gosei Shindou wants to meet him fast is pretty weird, but Hikaru trusts Waya to do him this solid, especially with the way Yoshitaka reacted to his pleading, and after his quick shower Hikaru throws on a hoodie and jeans and gets out.

Hopefully Touya-sensei’s friend did his job and they’ll be already on the same page when they meet.

 _‘I can’t fail now. I’m so close.’_ The spike of fear he felt when he held Touya’s cut hair in his hands is something he’ll remember for a long while; but he won’t let these people get away with it. _‘I’ll win for you, Akira.’_

 

_~tbc~_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me so long, oh my God.  
> We're at 3-3 now, is it exciting or what? Wooo~ title matches~~  
> Urgh. Some pieces I'm unsatisfied with, but no matter how much I tinker around with them, nothing better is coming up.  
> Still. The story is moving along. I just have to remember all the things I wanna do and all the crumbs I already put down and link them all together.  
> Sometimes I forget to do that, and its' messy.
> 
> Either way, take this.  
> I don't even know.  
> Stay tuned for more, hope you enjoy.  
> This is unbeta'ed and messy.  
> I'm sorry.


	5. Sitting on a Razor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last match for the Honinbou title has finally come. The stakes couldn’t possibly be higher for Hikaru. 
> 
> When the board is full and there are no more moves to be made, the result is very close, once again.
> 
> Half a moku. Only half a moku.

The meeting with Ogata was set up at the gym Hikaru sometimes goes at –hopefully nobody would think about spying on him there.

They move from there and go to meet again at the sensei’s place. Shindou is not surprised when he sees another person there, with a computer setup that definitely isn’t just for NetGo in the study and a worried looking Touya Kouyo sitting beside him.

“Shindou-kun, this is Ishibashi-san.” The former Meijin introduces, “Thanks to him, we were able to listen to the call as well.”

Hikaru lets out a breath he wasn’t even aware he was holding. “Then you caught up on Akira’s hint, didn’t you?” he asks excitedly, “You can find him right? You can GPS this crap and all?”

“What hint, Shindou-kun?” the question makes the blonde stop mid-ramble.

Apparently it’s not as obvious to the others as it was to him. Which he finds hard to believe, aren’t these the people who practically raised Akira? Blinking away his confusion, he turns to the tech. “Can you replay a recording of the call?”

Ogata watches the exchange in silence, but sees Shindou’s face grow increasingly red with embarrassment as he hears back what he said to the younger Touya and more importantly _how_ he said it. If he were to be any more transparent, he’d be a freaking magnifying glass. But that, while amusing, is stories for other times, when no young men are being held hostage against their will.

“So you see, with the difference in the way he spoke first and later, you can tell he’s trying to tell me to pay attention to the first word of every phrase.” Hikaru finally explains, furiously fighting down the blush at knowing Akira’s dad heard him talk to Akira like _that_ , “Which brings us to ‘I’m someplace next to a river.’ He’s been giving me hints on the sly this whole time. The idea to subtly let Ogata-san figure this out was actually his.”

 _‘Was it now?’_ Seiji quirks his eyebrows but prefers to keep his mouth shut. “That’s a dangerous game you two are playing. If Akira’s captors catch onto what he’s doing, it can get very ugly, very fast.”

The younger pro almost bites back his retort, but considering this is about saving his rival, all gloves are off. He almost scoffs at the Gosei. “Well, I’m before his closest friends and family, and it still went over everybody’s head but mine. I doubt strangers are going to pick up on his hints anytime soon.” Not that that stopped Shindou for completely missing some _other_ hints Akira had been dropping over the years, but… tunnel-Go vision, maybe. “And it’s not like I can control what he says. Might as well make the most of it.”

Ishibashi-san types down some things, and then sighs. “Unfortunately, the duration of the call wasn’t enough for the tracker to properly locate them. What I have right now is that they’re still in this prefecture for sure, but that doesn’t help much.” The… technician? Secret agent? Hikaru doesn’t know nor care, as long as he actually gives them some concrete help, “Ideally, a call of 5 full minutes is what I need to exactly pinpoint a location, down to the post-code, but anything above three total minutes will do for the city and an approximation of a neighbourhood.”

Hikaru bites his lips worriedly. Ishibashi-san is a shockingly minute man, compared to the tall and broad figure of, say, Ogata-san or even Touya-sensei himself; and yet he exudes an authority that really makes you not want to mess with the man. He was quick to come to Touya-sensei’s aid, disinterestedly dropping everything and rushing to set up base to locate Akira, so he’s a good friend, at the very least. Trusting the sensei’s judgement, Hikaru presses on: “Wait, if you’re sure they’re still in Kanto, then the river Akira told me about is the Arakawa for sure, right?” that’s the only river in Kanto _he_ knows of, at the very least the only one close enough that it can be reached in a short time from the city center.

Then again, he never was that good in geography, but a nod from Ishibashi-san confirms it. “That does narrow down the search a little bit, but the hardest part will come after your game, tomorrow.” The agent reminds him, patting him on a shoulder for comfort, “Regardless of the result of the game, the last phone call will be crucial to Akira’s retrieval, so keep your cool. Stall for time.” His expression softens as he gives Shindou a sympathetic look, “You’ve been doing incredibly well so far. Akira-kun is lucky to have a rival like you.”

“And we’re lucky that Akira’s the way he is.” it’s out of his mouth before Hikaru even realizes it, and he wonders at what point in the last decade it became so ingrained in him to refuse to take credit alone for his and Akira’s team efforts. He notices a barely there smile on Touya-sensei’s face, from the corner of his eye, but it doesn’t do much for his nerves.

It suddenly dawns on him that Akira’s survival literally depends on his next game –and something must show in his face, he probably freaking blanched because the former Meijin leans over to him, full of borderline paternal comfort: “Listen, you’re not alone anymore.” He says, voice still stern but warmer than what Hikaru’s used to, “When tomorrow comes, play like you normally would. Play to make Akira proud. Let _me_ be the one to think of his safety.”

Shindou takes a deep, but still shaky breath. _‘It’s easier said than done, but I do appreciate the sentiment, sensei.’_ Eventually he nods. “I’ll do my very best.”

Ishibashi-san assures them that as soon as he pinpoints a location, he’ll call in his team and have people take position in order to safely extract the young Touya and bring him home, and after a promise to call should the need arise, Hikaru takes his leave.

“Come on, kiddo.” Ogata’s voice is surprisingly gentle and devoid of smartassery, “I’ll drive you back to the gym, at least.”

 _‘Ah. Now that you know I’m the only one who can save Akira you actually behave like a human, huh.’_ The younger pro thinks, somewhat bitterly, but does appreciate the lift, since the gym is much closer to his apartment, _‘Never pegged you for a guy with a soft spot. Well you’re gonna have to share, because after this whole fiasco I’m so telling Akira how I feel.’_

 

Little does Hikaru know, his rival is thinking along the same lines at the moment, curled up on his cot with his hands behind his neck. Maybe it’s just psychological, a reaction after they cut his hair and to the knowledge that they could have done so much worse; but whatever it is, he feels 15 and helpless to the world around him all over again. And with his hair cut like that he definitely looks the part.

Keeping his knees to his chest and digging his nails in the back of his neck is just about all he can do not to give his captors the satisfaction of hearing him cry. _‘Don’t panic.’_ He tells himself, _‘For better or worse, everything will be over, tomorrow.’_   He shakes his head at himself –when did he start having so little faith in his rival? _‘Hikaru will definitely win tomorrow. And then he’ll find me. And we’ll leave together.’_

Touya’s heart gives a jump at that last thought. _Together_ seems so long ago –it’s been barely the better part of a week, and yet it’s enough to make the lack of Hikaru beside him sting like a physical pain. Or maybe it’s the slight fever he’s coming down with because of the poorly and unhygienically treated cut on his shoulder. He drifts in and out of sleep, during the night, too tired to stay up, but too nervous to completely give himself up to unconsciousness.

When the first lights of morning start to brighten up his cell, Akira refuses to move or make a sound. He’s so fed up with the situation that he almost can’t be bothered to even be afraid of the kidnappers anymore. Hopefully they’ll think he’s still asleep and not bother him until the game results are in.

“Hey! Sensei!” no such luck. “Can you feel the tick-tock of the clock?”

 _‘I would love to, but you fuckers took my watch.’_ Touya sighs, and just rubs nervously at the nape of his neck. “Yeah. Sure. Clocks.” He mutters, trying to be as neutral and boring as he can in order not to give the man any more reasons to threaten bodily harm. “Just… let me know when we have to move or whatever.”

“Still playing high and mighty, I see.” Small Sleazy barks out a cruel laugh. “We’ll see how detached you can be if your little boyfriend happens to lose the game, today!”

Akira tries valiantly not to react, but can’t help the tightness he suddenly feels in his chest. “He _won’t_ lose.” Trying to deny the ‘boyfriend’ remark would just give his captor more ammunition to tease him, so the young go prodigy doesn’t even dignify that with his attention.

“You sure have a lot of faith in the brat.” The kidnapper says, clearly not really trusting Hikaru’s abilities as much as he did, “I guess you’d better hope he really wins…” his face suddenly comes close to the porthole and even through the mask Akira can literally feel the leer. “If he loses the game and we lose our ransom, you become _fair game_.”

Touya doesn’t let the fear and disgust show on his face and takes a small breath, narrowing his eyes and mustering as much ice as he can in his glare. “I took the knife from your attack dog once. If things are fair game for you, the same will be for me. You’ve _never_ seen me really pissed off.”

Small Sleazy just cackles at his resistance and goes away, muttering that they’ll ‘see’. In the back of his head, Akira idly notices that his speech patterns have been different, these days –a far cry from the polite, well-spoken Touya he usually is un public and way closer to a certain hot headed rival’s way of talking. _‘Guess the tough-guy persona does make you feel better when you’re cornered…’_

At this point, Akira isn’t even scared for himself anymore. He just hopes Hikaru is okay.

 

The last match for the Honinbou title has finally come. Hikaru has basically _dreamt_ of this day ever since learning what the title of Honinbou truly is. And yet, it’s nothing like he imagined –his rival is not by his side cheering him on, he’s in the hands of two psychos and this title is probably the only thing that could safely bring him home –the stakes couldn’t possibly be higher for Hikaru. Which is a paradox, because right now he couldn’t care less about being the one to take the title from the legend himself: he only wants Akira back and safe.

 _‘Sai… give me all your strength.’_ The blonde takes a deep breath, and finally kneels on his side of the goban.

“Ready to settle this, brat?” Kuwabara-sensei stares at him from across the board, his gaze piercing and perceptive despite the old age. Shindou doesn’t let it get to him.

“Save your breath for the game, _sensei_.” He advises, with an overly respectful tone that clearly implies he doesn’t give a fuck about mind games anymore, “Onegaishimasu.”

The game is long and well fought –each of the two opponents unwilling to give up and pouncing on the slightest chance to try and make the other fall, never relenting and fighting tooth and nail down to the very last stone.

When the board is full and there are no more moves to be made, the result is very close, once again.

Half a moku. Only half a moku.

Shindou Hikaru is the youngest pro to ever claim the title of Honinbou.

For a couple seconds, there’s only silence in the Room of Deep Contemplation –but for Hikaru it’s deafening, to the point he can hear his own blood thunder in his ears.

“Congratulations, Shindou-kun!” the official eventually says, “Truly, this is a historical moment! Shall we discuss the game?”

Hikaru is still breathing in shallow gasps, both from the anxiety of the very close game and from what’s to come with Akira and his captors. “If it’s all the same, I’d like to skip the curtsies.” He hears himself saying, even though there’s no real feeling in his voice yet, “I’d rather get the paperwork for the prize done and get the hell out.”

Obviously, the officials and most of the observers are outraged. “Shindou-kun! I know we let you youngsters get away with a lot, but this is disrespectful, even for you!” the record-keeper says, “You’re the new Honinbou! Show some decorum for once!”

“I couldn’t give any less shits if I tried!!!” Hikaru finally roars, snapping. “I need to get a move on, because I don’t know if you noticed but your golden boy is _missing_ , the men holding him hostage want this fucking prize and they’re _not messing around!_ ” he exclaims, bringing one hand to his temple, the other one chucking out of his pocket and on the floor a lock of Akira’s hair that he couldn’t help but gather and keep with him for luck, if only to feel that Akira was somewhat close to him, “ _This_ is what they did to him! Will you help me now, or not?!”

Hopefully, considering this outburst came out _after_ winning the title, the kidnappers won’t be too pissed. Among all the people in the room, Kuwabara is the only one not struck speechless.

“Ah. Many things make sense now.” He remarks, turning to one of the officials. “Sakamaki-san. Please, get the paperwork. Clearly, this is an emergency and will be treated as such.”

If he was in a calmer state of mind, Hikaru would have been grateful to the former Honinbou for the cooperation, but as of right now he only wants to get things over and done with, slapping his signature wherever necessary, among the uneasy and probably still pissed officials, and getting the forms ready for the bank. Once everything is signed, stamped and ready, a glint of metal distracts him when he gets up to leave with the documents; and what he sees when he looks over is Kuwabara-sensei removing a chain from around his neck and holding it out to him.

It’s military dog-tags, he notices, possibly from when he fought in the forties. “Bring them to Akira-kun, with my regards.”

Hikaru is dumbfounded for a moment, not really understanding the gesture at the moment, but accepts the object –he still has some semblance of dignity, and he already insulted the game and the people in the room enough. “I-I have to go.”

“Vamoose. And don’t stop until you find your rival.”

The young pro is out the door and running before Kuwabara-sensei can even stop chuckling.

Ogata intercepts him at the exit. “You’re even crazier than I originally thought.”

Trying to dislodge from the arm that just grabbed him, Hikaru almost snarls at the man. “Let go! I don’t have much time!”

“Shindou, it’s okay!” the Gosei has to resort to grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him, “They caught the man who was spying on you for them. Ishibashi-san’s friend arrested him while he was disguising himself as a janitor here at the Institute. The kidnappers won’t know about your outburst today. You can breathe.”

After his crappy luck for the entire week, Shindou can barely believe it. “They did?”

Seiji nods. “Turns out the man didn’t even know who he was spying for, a guy approached him and gave him a lot of cash to spy on you here at the Institute and relay what you did to an email address.”  He explains, hopefully giving the younger pro a bit of relief to know that the observation was over and wasn’t that tight to begin with. “He’s probably the one who looked up your address and brought the package with Akira’s hair to your doorstep. They’re currently trying to track the kidnappers from the email.”

 _‘You’d have to have a name as well, to properly narrow down the search…’_ at least that’s as far as Hikaru’s knowledge goes, but who knows, really? Still… “I have to go get the money ready.”

“You’re really going to give up the prize to them?” With Touya-sensei’s ‘friends’ in the picture, capturing the men without paying is actually a viable options, after all.

Shindou doesn’t seem to think the same: “It’s Akira’s _life_ , Ogata-san. I’m not taking chances.”

"Go. I'll do crowd control here." The Gosei is left in the hallway, watching as Hikaru takes his leave, shoulders square and pace brisk. _‘Well, I’ll be damned.’_ This goes so much deeper than ‘care’. At least young Akira is in the best hands possible, then.

 

Paperwork at the bank is excruciating. It’s both boring and nerve-wracking, because of course the emergency situation Hikaru is in makes him paranoid and picture scenarios where they would deny him the prize  for any number of reasons, but luckily enough it’s eventually over and done with, and he exits the building with a blue float(*)  envelope in his backpack. Finally, his phone rings.

This is it. “Took you long enough.”

_«Congratulations, sensei.»_

Shindou grits his teeth. He’s so done hearing this asshole’s voice. “So, since I won, do I get my three minutes with Akira again?”

 _«No can do, Shindou Hikaru Honinbou.»_ the kidnapper tone is irritatingly smug, _«But since you’re holding up your end of the deal, we’ll let you hear your boyfriend’s voice as proof that he’s still alive.»_

Once more, there were background sounds of a door opening and something else, much farther away but very noisy… like construction equipment. Then, music to his ears. _«I knew you had it in you, Hikaru.»_

“You just hold on, Akira. I’ll come get you.” The blonde releases a breath he didn’t even know he was holding.

 _«I’m waiting for you.»_ and if that doesn’t bring flashbacks from when they were young and concerned with much simpler things, and yet still literally obsessed with each other; nothing else would. Unfortunately, the moment is cut short as the kidnapper’s voice takes over the phone again: _«Okay that’s enough. You two can kiss and make up when I get my money.»_

Hikaru is so going to punch this guy. “Where and when.” He doesn’t even bother changing his tone.

 _«There’s a construction site just off Mizuhodai station, not too far from the fire station. At this hour, employees are gonna start to leave. Go there and wait for us.»_ the man instructs, before his voice takes a dangerous tone, _«Come alone. I don’t think I have to remind you what happens if you do something stupid like alerting the cops, do I?»_

“You made your point. I held up my end.” Hikaru’s hands tighten around his phone. It’s barely been two minutes, he needs to keep the guy talking if he wants Ishibashi-san to be able to track him. “How about you cut me some slack?”

_«Just be there with the money and no one will get hurt.»_

“Wait—” the line goes dead before the blond can object. _‘Damn it.’_

He runs his free hand through his hair and lets out a frustrated sigh. It takes three more deep breaths before he can raise his head back up and look for the nearest metro station; but his phone rings again.

“Hello?”

_«Shindou-kun, this is Ishibashi-san.»_

“Oh thank the fucking Maker!” Hikaru blurts out before he is able to stop himself, “Was it enough?”

 _«Not quite, but we’ve got an area down. Still, we also know the location of the exchange.»_ the tech says, _«My team is taking the places of the construction workers on the site as we speak. Nobody will be the wiser and you won’t be alone. When you go there, stall for time and try to get close to Akira-kun. We will do the rest.»_

“I’ll try.” He doesn’t quite realize he just hung up on the man, he’s in too much of a hurry to get on the train and see his rival again. Kuwabara-sensei’s dog-tags jingle in his pocket as he runs to the platform, and Hikaru idly wonders about them. It’s either a “to the victor the spoils” sort of thing, which would make Hikaru the knight that brings the enemy’s head to his princess, or a gesture of recognition to Akira himself for surviving in such a situation. Knowing the old man, it’s probably a little bit of both. Or maybe it’s neither and it was just the old sensei’s way of apologizing for not seeing deep enough the problem with Hikaru’s go to be able to do something sooner.

Whatever it means, it’s comforting to clutch the steel dog-tags in his pocket. Those things have been through the Pacific war and come back. Surely Hikaru can do this one thing.

The last steps from the station to the construction site feel like climbing a mountain, but Shindou follows the sounds and finally finds the place.

None of the people in there seem to be paying him any mind, by all means they look like ordinary construction workers getting ready to leave, and the place is quite big –Hikaru knows better than to try and talk to anyone. He settles himself in a clear space far enough from any of them that it’s not suspicious, but still well within sight.

It feels like forever, but finally he hears a car pull up to the place. Some shuffling and cursing, and then there they are.

There _he_ is.

It’s surreal to see Akira with his old hair –he had gotten so used to see his rival with long locks going well past his shoulders, and now… he's almost looking through time. Shindou’s unease doesn’t end there, though: he notices, as he always notices _everything_ when he looks at Akira, that his rival is pale, ruffled, has a thin sheen of sweat covering his skin and a little red blotch staining through the fabric of his blazer.

Clearly, these few days weren’t easy for Touya either.

He tries to speak, but no words come out of his mouth. The big guy is holding Akira by one arm, in a not too conspicuous threat, but present enough that his rival doesn’t dare move.

The other, slightly smaller guy, finally speaks.

“Many congratulations on your _victory_ , sensei.” He says, voice practically dripping with smugness at the thought of taking that away from him, “Ready to claim your prize?”

 

_~tbc~_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (*) "float" bags are thick blue envelopes where funds are usually kept in, whether it's deposited savings or any sum above a certain amount kept for financial purposes.
> 
> Okay, so if there was anyone waiting for this: I'm sorry for taking so long! My father came to visit me from Italy and I hadn't seen him in very long, so obviously I spent time with him and took him around to places and stuff...  
> Also I have been sewing an Akira costume for the next MCM London comicon~  
> ...is there actually any people on here that are also in London and maybe will be there?
> 
> Um, either way.  
> I'm also sorry for ending this on a cliffhanger but, you know.  
> It would have been too long for one chapter.  
> I'm off to write the rest! :)  
> Hope someone still likes my unbeta'ed crap.  
> Laters~~


	6. Dragon Breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You took a beating for me. You absolute madman.”
> 
> “You risked your life for mine. Twice. And I’m the madman? You… you… I thought I lost you.”

Hikaru feels like his spine will snap if he gets any more tense. Still, he forces himself to keep his head high and look at the men holding Touya not six meters away from him. His rival seems equally stiff, fists shoved in his blazer pockets and shoulders pulled taut.

“First you let Akira walk to me, then I give you your money.” The blond sees Akira’s lips tremble with a barely concealed breath of relief, but his posture doesn’t change.

“No can do, sensei.” The kidnapper says, mocking evident in his voice as he addresses the pro formally every single time, “You’re in no position to make demands. My buddy will come to you, you’re gonna give him the goods, and _then_ we release precious little Akira-kun here.” The big guy lets go of Touya, but the other immediately grabs him by the left arm.

If the people around them are really Ishibashi-san’s team, they’re doing an excellent job at pretending to not notice the secluded exchange. Especially since the guy still holding Akira has subtly raised his gun to point at Akira’s chest from the side –partially hidden by their side-by-side bodies, but Hikaru saw it.

Big burly unfortunately seems to want to have some fun, and when he’s finally in front of Hikaru, the first thing he does is punching him in the stomach.

Touya starts to struggle. “What the hell is wrong with you bastards?!” he shouts, “You’re gonna have your money, leave off him!!!”

Apparently, the sight of the newly nominated Honinbou surging forward in pain is incredibly entertaining for the kidnapper, who just holds Akira tighter. “Ah-ah!” he admonishes, “This isn’t done until _I_ decide it’s done.”

Another punch comes, at Hikaru’s face this time, and the blond loses his balance, giving the chance to the man assaulting him to kick him again and again while he’s down.

“Stop!!! God, please, make it stop!! What is _wrong with you people?!”_ there are tears in Touya’s eyes as he shouts out the last part, and apparently that’s what Small Sleazy wanted to see.

“That’ll do.” He calls, with a complacent nonchalance that makes Touya want to punch him; “Let’s get this over with.” He adds placidly, like he didn’t just have his buddy beat up Hikaru just for the satisfaction of seeing Touya Akira broken to tears.

 _‘If that’s how you want to play it…’_ Akira exhales slowly, and then searches for Hikaru’s gaze as his rival stands back up and spits out a little blood; silently asking if he’s okay.

Hikaru now is sporting a split lip, and probably will be bruised in several places later on, but doesn’t seem worse for the wear. Big Burly stands expectantly in front of him, not saying a word as usual, but Shindou isn’t paying him much mind right now. His eyes are enraptured by Akira’s gaze, that suddenly turned intense in a way very few people can handle.

If they were sitting across a goban, Hikaru would say they’re playing a match his rival is determined to win, but considering the situation, Shindou is struggling to understand what exactly Akira is making those he affectionately dubbed the ‘dragon eyes’ at. There’s an unwavering determination, and then an imperceptible nod towards the big guy in front of him, ready to take the money.

And then there’s a subtle drop of his gaze to the gun at his side, barely a lowering of lashes on emerald irises.

Hikaru takes off his backpack, swallowing down the tension. _‘I really hope you know what you’re doing, Akira.’_

“This is what you wanted, right?” He moves as if to hold out the backpack to the large man in front of him, while looking at Akira from the corner of his eyes –he sees it, a twitch of his rival’s right arm– and acts fast. “Here, take it!” Gathering all that’s left of his strength, Hikaru smacks the thug in the face with his backpack, catching him off guard more than actually hurting him, but he remedies that when he digs one heel in and spins around, to get the momentum, speed and strength needed to kick his opponent in the chest with his other leg, hard enough to send him toppling on the floor.

At the same exact time, Touya also acts: he yanks his left arm free from his kidnapper’s hold and grabs at the surgical mask to pull it down. While the man his still busy shouting his surprise, Akira’s right hand comes up, shoving a fistful of white stones in the man’s mouth. The young go prodigy doesn’t waste time, and while his captor is still trying not to choke on go stones, he elbows him in the stomach, successfully making the man keel over and let go of the gun.

Out of pure survival instinct, Akira grabs the weapon as soon as he hears it hit the floor. “So, odd or even, shitface?!” he’s trembling, he never held a gun before, never even saw one so up close up until the day he got kidnapped, and probably the only reason he hasn’t fainted yet is just the adrenaline running wild through his body, but he’ll be damned if he lets these assholes get away with what they’ve done. “Step away from him!” his voice cracks as he issues the command, but one of his kidnappers is still busy spitting stones on the floor and the other one is too far from him to even think about taking the gun away before he could pull the trigger, so they take him seriously.

Akira steps around Big Burly as they switch positions and the thug moves back towards his buddy, but the young pro doesn’t take his eyes –or the gun– off either of them, and simply steps backwards until his back feels Hikaru’s chest. He has to bite his lips in order to avoid closing his eyes and dropping everything just to hug his rival, whohas instinctively put both hands on his sides upon their closeness. “Akira… you… I…”

Now comes the hard part, though. For once in his life, Touya hadn’t thought that far ahead –he only wanted them to stop hitting Hikaru and get away from him. With that accomplished, he is now holding a gun to two criminals, while terrified, with a fever and no idea whether he’d even be able to pull the trigger at all.

Luckily for him, he doesn’t need to act further, because seeing such a golden chance, Ishibashi-san’s team moves in, making themselves known.

Hikaru has to give the man credit, they move seamlessly and in the blink of an eye –down from support platforms, out of doors and behind pillars, all gathered around and with weapons pointed way more skilfully than Akira’s trembling hold at the moment.

“You’re surrounded. Give it up.”

Four men gather around the two criminals, while a man and a woman approach the beaten up Hikaru and still shaking Akira.

“It’s okay.” The lady says, carefully extending her arms towards the pair. “You can give that to me, we’ll bring you two somewhere safe, and you will see your family soon.”

Touya gives up the gun with a sigh that sound suspiciously like a sob, but considering he might just have saved both their lives with his crazy stunt, Hikaru is not about to call him out on that.

Just as they thought the men had the two kidnappers apprehended, Small Sleazy goes for one last desperate move: Akira is not surprised that the guy would abandon his buddy and even outright use him as a shield, as he shoves Big burly practically in the face of the agent closest to the escape route, and dashes for the car.

There’s a scuffle, and Big Burly is successfully restrained, whereas Small Sleazy manages to get in the car and speed away.

“Touya-kun!” one of the supposed ‘construction’ crew turns towards the two rivals, and Hikaru recognizes Ishibashi-san himself, with no small amount of relief, “My name is Ishibashi, I’m a friend of your father. I know this is a distressing time for you, but we have to find that man fast. Do you know where they were holding you?”

Akira would much rather just pass out in Shindou’s arms and be cuddled into next week, but he can see where the stranger is coming from, and if his rival’s reaction to the man is anything to go by, he can trust him. And catching that asshole is a priority, considering the man has nothing left to lose and is more than likely to try and retaliate if he manages to get away. “Not really, they blindfolded me to go and come, but…” he fervently tries to recall every detail he saw from his small window. “I was near a river. I could glimpse a bit of the outside and there was lots of grass, maybe a park or a golf court…” he takes a slow breath, trying to recall his later attempts, “Oh, and some blue banners— or maybe purple banners… either way, they had some kind of advertising… but it was too far away to read.”

It’s the first time in his young life that Touya actually wishes he wasn’t slightly colorblind. Ishibashi-san doesn’t seem to be bothered by it, and just praises him for his presence of spirit. “That is more than enough, now that we’ve seen his face. Just one more thing and then you’ll be able to rest: do you have any ideas about your kidnapper’s identity?”

Akira slightly tilts his head. “I have no idea about Big Burly over there, but Small Sleazy had a tendency to run his mouth…” he answers, moving his right hand to rest over Hikaru’s on his side, “From what I gathered, it’s somebody who took the pro exam the same year as me and failed… which lead to a bitter grudge, it would seem.”

“ _Big Burly_ and _Small Sleazy_?” true to what the entirety of their relationship is, Hikaru finds the time to be amused by Akira’s choice of nicknames through it all, and only the hissed “Shut up” from his rival makes him bite back his laugh. He also absently notes that _that’s_ what Akira was hinting at, back when he tried to make him think about his insei days and that’s what the Sai in his dream was trying to point out to him. _‘It did work out in the end.’_

Ishibashi-san nods at them. “That’ll be more than enough to identify him and catch him, thank you.” He assures, gesturing to his team mates to take them to safety. “Please follow my team. They will give you medical attention and then escort the two of you to a police station to set things straight.”

With that, Hikaru and Akira actually leave the chasing of criminals to the people actually equipped to do it, and are accompanied into an ambulance, or mobile medical unit, or whatever the heck it is.

The twenty question they have to play in there is almost exhausting, but at least they’re safe.

“Were you injured anywhere?” the paramedic asks, as he looks over Akira as best as he can, considering the young prodigy is refusing to let go of his rival’s hand.

“I’m okay, I just have this one cut— can we _please_ worry about Shindou? He just got beaten up…” Touya cooperates tiredly when the medic shuffles his arm out of the blazer and exposes his ripped shirt and makeshift bandage, and suddenly Hikaru has things to say.

“What the hell happened to you?!” he exclaims, turning to the doctor himself, “Don’t listen to him, I’m fine!”

If he was a lesser man, the medic would have outright laughed at how each of the boys keeps refusing treatment unless they treat the other first, but he takes his job very seriously, so he simply gets a pair of scissors and starts to cut away at the makeshift bandage. “The fabric probably stuck to the wound a bit, you’ll feel a slight tearing when I pull it off…” he warns, as another doctor prepares disinfectant and other tools, “It seems to be slightly infected, but I’m going to clean the cut properly, apply some antibiotic and bandage it properly.”

Akira does flinch a little when the fabric comes off, and the cut is slightly yellowed out and kind of gross looking, but the treatment doesn’t hurt too bad. It turns out the cut doesn’t need stitches and he gets a shiny square plaster on his shoulder, and some supplements to swallow with a cup of water because apparently he looks pale and a bit malnourished.

Then it’s Hikaru’s turn, and the blond gets some disinfectant on his busted lip and some arnica for the bruises forming on his chest, after the doctor feels around here and there and concludes that, luckily, there are no broken ribs or anything, and they’re left alone for a couple minutes, sitting together in the medical unit to recover and catch their wits, before getting escorted to the police station.

As he pulls his shirt back down with only minimal pain, Hikaru catches Akira’s eyes, that were apparently staring at him the whole time.

“…what?” he can’t help but ask, and his rival’s voice is barely above a whisper.

“You took a beating for me.” His lower lip his caught by his teeth for a second, before he continues, “You absolute madman, you let people beat you up for me.”

How long has he dreamt of Touya speaking to him in that tone? That breathless, enraptured tone… sure, he would have preferred it didn’t happen after something like _this_ , but that intense emerald gaze is enough to make him forget everything.

“You risked your life for mine. Twice.” Well, almost everything. And Hikaru had been quick to puzzle out what happened, on the day of Akira’s capture, after he passed out –with him unconscious, the criminals threatened to kill him unless Touya followed, and the crazy idiot did. Sai was definitely right about the dragon baring his fangs, yeesh. Finally overcoming the shock and tension, Hikaru raises his free hand to cup his rival’s cheek. “And I’m the madman? You… you…” it’s funny how the back and forth sounds a lot like their usual arguments over the goban, but it’s missing all the anger, which is replaced by a tone so affectionate it almost hurts. “…I thought I lost you. I’d let people cut me into ribbons if it meant having you back.”

Akira shivers slightly when Shindou’s hand travels to his neck and behind his nape, and tightens his fingers, that are still holding his rival’s other hand. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” He breathes, “And I prefer you in one, big, Hikaru-shaped piece, thank you very much.”

 _‘Okay, that’s it.’_ Not really caring anymore and feeling this is long overdue, considering all they’ve been through, Hikaru leans forward and kisses Akira, pain in his split-lip be damned.

It’s chaste at first, just their mouths meeting and refusing to part, pressing together in search of a comfort that they’d been denied too long. Unsurprisingly, in the blonde’s mind, Touya takes initiative –like a response to Hikaru’s first ‘attack’– and just barely pulls back, enough to give the tiniest lick to his rival’s lower lip. He tastes blood, but doesn’t care and kisses him again.

Shindou’s lips part to give him access and nibble slightly at his own, and Akira shivers again when the hand Hikaru had on his neck moves up and dives into his hair. It seems that now that they’ve got a taste of each other, neither can stop. Shindou’s tongue feels amazing in his mouth and Akira is all but ready to melt in the embrace, letting his free hand travel up Hikaru’s torso and grabbing a fistful of his shirt at his –surprisingly sturdy– shoulder… until the bites down on his rival’s lip and the other recoils slightly in pain.

“Oh.” Akira mumbles, fighting down the blush threatening to creep all over his face because 23 year-olds _don’t_ blush like that, damn it, “I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

The blonde chuckles at him. “It’s okay. We probably shouldn’t be doing this here.” The slightly winded way he speaks betrays Hikaru’s reluctance to stop, despite his words, and then there’s a smirk on his mouth. “Never thought _you_ ’d be a biter.” he remarks slyly, “That’s kinda hot.”

“Shut up.” Playfully punching his rival on the same shoulder he was holding onto for dear life moments ago, Touya tries and fails to fixate a stern glare on him, ruined by a chuckle. “You started it.” He chastises, despite not really feeling it –it what they do, after all, they bicker about everything. This is no different, and the familiarity of it is working wonders on calming their exhausted nerves.

When the medic comes back, he finds the two rivals still laughing and holding hands, and decides that while unusual, it’s an improvement. At least they don’t seem traumatized.

The trip to the police station is a whole new level of tiresome –Akira gets reunited with his parents, that run towards him in near-tears and take turns hugging their son and kissing his forehead like he’s a child all over again, and Ogata-sensei is also there. Strangely enough, he comes to Hikaru first, and wordlessly pats him on the shoulder, before turning to Akira and ruffling his head.

“We really got scared for a while, kiddo.”

Hikaru never understood how Touya seemed to be immune to Ogata-san’s creepily insightful presence and attitude, but looking at them now, it seems his rival considers the Gosei like a slightly annoying older brother.

“Yeah well…” he says, politely removing the man’s hand from his head with his own but not immediately letting go, “I’m okay now.” And apparently there’s nothing else to be said, because Touya drops his hand and finds Hikaru’s again, stubborn unwillingness to let go as the only clue that he’s in any way still shaken about the whole incident.

Seiji just smiles at them, and then makes space for the boys to be led where they can make their statement.

It’s a long and tedious process, and they get informed that the second of the two kidnappers has been caught and identified shortly after the chase –Akira’s information was vital in finding the man’s identity in the Institute’s record– and that, albeit the evidence for conviction is plentiful and obvious, there might be a court hearing to officially throw the duo in the slammer, that both Hikaru and Akira will have to testify for.

But the inspector assures them that that’s in the future and that for now, they’re free to go and rest. Despite his parent’s protests, Akira asks to be driven to his apartment, all the while still shadowed by Hikaru.

“Let the boy go, Kouyo-san.” It’s Akiko who makes the final call, Getting her husband’s attention with a soft but firm tug on his sleeve. “He’s exhausted, and just wants to rest. We can let him have his way for today. We can drop by his apartment tomorrow morning.”

Akira has never been happier his mother is such a clever and intuitive woman.

“How does that sound, Akira-san? I can bring you breakfast.”

“That would be wonderful, yes.” He answers, grateful for both the chance to have his space and the promise of tasty homemade food. “Thank you, mother.”

Nobody speaks a word of the fact that despite the exchange, Hikaru gets in the car together with Akira and the young Touya does not object in the slightest.

He'll make it up to his parents... tomorrow. And then he's going to go get his haircut adjusted -if he has to have the throwback look, might as well do it properly. It's strange how the brain clings to the small things, when you come out of this type of situation. _'It's probably better like this. I'll probably go crazy if I try to think about everything at once.'_ Still, the subtle hand Hikaru keeps brushing his hair with, for the whole car ride, is a comfort he silently is more than happy to indulge in.

 

It isn’t until they’re behind closed doors, safe and sound and sitting in Akira’s living room, that he finally breaks down. It’s sudden, and it comes not two seconds after they wordlessly sat down, unsure of what to do. Touya hides his face in Hikaru’s chest, sobbing away all his tension, and the blonde strokes his hair lovingly, kissing his temple every now and then and feeling tears fall from his eyes as well.

 _‘It’s better this way.’_ He manages to think, carding his finger through Akira’s tousled hair, _‘Let’s let it all out.’_

They don’t speak, and it takes several minutes for the both of them to calm down, but eventually Hikaru feels his rival breathe deeply in and out against his chest and wipes his own tears, ready to face Touya when the other raises his head back up.

“Hey.” he calls, hazel eyes smiling back at Akira’s puffy green ones, “We made it.”

“We made it.” Touya parrots with a nod, moving to cup Hikaru’s face with both hands, and chastely kissing the other again.

Hikaru’s breath hitches despite himself, and he has to clear his voice before he speaks again. “Akira, I’ve been meaning to tell you… ever since that day— no, before that, even…”

“I love you.” Clearly, Touya is not in the mood for talking things the roundabout way, and much like when they play go, his direct approach cuts through Hikaru’s subterfuge and gets straight to the point.

“I— you— what?” is all the blonde can mumble against Akira’s lips, coherent thought quickly leaving him.

“Hikaru.” His rival interrupts him again, and in any other occasion Shindou would have called him out on his rudeness, but the bossy attitude and insistent lips are the sexiest thing he can think of, right now, “I’ve been through hell, I’m tired, and I desperately need a shower. Either push me away, or tell me you love me too so we can shower together.”

Hikaru’s brain short-circuits, both at what Akira’s tongue is doing to his mouth right now and at the prospect of showering together, but luckily enough he still has enough brainpower left to answer: “I love you too. _Good God_ I’ve loved you so long it’s not even funny.” He manages to rasp out, and even if he feels he sounded sappy and kinda stupid, it’s worthy for the smile Touya is giving him right now, as he reluctantly backs away from his lips.

He gets up from the couch agonizingly slowly, gradually detaching himself more and more from Shindou until only their fingertips are touching and then even those have to part, and takes two slow steps further back, still looking intently at Hikaru. “Well? You remember where the bathroom is, don’t you?” he says, turning as if to threaten to start without him.

Hikaru scrambles up and follows.

Despite their eagerness to get close, they both take it very slow when they finally start undressing each other. Akira languidly sifts his hands underneath Hikaru’s jacket and over his shoulders, dragging his hands down behind his rival’s shoulder blades and making the garment fall to the floor.

The jingle of metal when the jacket does hit the tiles surprises them both. _‘I almost forgot about that.’_ Hikaru thinks with a smile, and stops for a moment to pick up the dog-tags.

“What’s that?” Akira asks, curious enough to wonder but not so much that he’d stop nuzzling his face in his rival’s neck now that he stood back up.

Hikaru smiles as he brings the thin chain towards Touya and lightly pulls away to let him see it. “It’s Kuwabara-sensei’s military dog-tags.”

“He was in the military?”

The blond just nods at him and motions for Akira to put them on. “He gave them to me, to bring to you after I won.” he explains briefly, remembering his outburst with a little shame, but not feeling too guilty, considering it probably saved Touya’s life. “Consider it a homage to your bravery, young dragon.” He adds with a wink.

The sensation of the metal against his chest is strange, especially when Hikaru starts unbuttoning his tattered shirt and the chain falls against his bare skin, but it is kind of cool. It makes him feel like a general that received the sword of a surrendering enemy. “…stop calling me that.” He mutters at that particular running joke, stealing another quick kiss.

As neat as that is, it still doesn’t take his attention away from his current mission. Which is stripping Shindou Hikaru and holding him under the shower and kissing him like it’s going out of fashion, in a perfect we-finally-admitted-we’re-in-love-which-is-cliché-but-see-if-we-care moment.

He takes special care in undoing Shindou’s belt and slowly, very slowly, dragging his pants down and kneeling to the floor along with them, all the while looking back up at his rival with a gaze not too different from the one he often gets behind the goban, lips slightly parted and breath coming out in short puffs.

Hikaru visibly shudders at the sight of Touya Akira on his knees in front of him and looking up like _that._ He has to grab him by the arms and yank him up in a bruising kiss just to avoid doing something that would make them forget all about washing up, and Akira is surprisingly compliant under his touch.

Shower sex, they quickly discover, is far too complicated and probably overrated. Their tired bodies and minds can’t quite keep up with their desire for closeness, and they end up doing more washing up than making out, probably because of Akira’s dire need to get clean after his whole misadventure and the running water making it difficult for them to do much else; but there are enough wandering touches here and there that they do wind up with a hand between each other’s legs to relieve an entirely different kind of tension.

Hikaru is all but mesmerized by the sounds Akira makes under his hands, gasping, bucking and throwing his head back, and watching his rival –cool, collected and impassive Touya Akira– come undone beneath his fingers is absolutely intoxicating. Touya would probably have a few choice words about him as well, if the way he leans over to nip and bite at his neck, jawline and chest is any indication, but Hikaru’s brain eventually shuts down at the sensation of Akira’s hands around him, and it’s not too long before everything is pure bliss.

 

They manage to make their way over to Touya’s bed, after a while, still naked and with their hair still damp.

Hikaru is laying on his back, one hand tucked behind the back of his head and the other arm slung around Akira’s midriff, as his rival lies face-forward on top of him, propped up on his elbow just beside the blonde’s chest, free hand playing with a few strands of bleached bangs.

“So.” the prodigy says, after a long, tender silence, “Shindou Hikaru Honinbou…”

Akira’s tone is so furiously proud of him that Hikaru can’t help the slow, huge smile spreading across his face. “Yeah…” he says, realization of his accomplishment just now sinking in –the perilous situation they were facing kind of robbed him of the chance to enjoy the thrill of his battle for the title, but now that it’s over and done with… _‘Holy crap.’_ Never in a million years he’d have thought to be the first one out of them to get a title. Granted, in less than two weeks Akira will start his Tengen matches, but still.

His rival seems to be reading his thoughts, considering the low, amused -and kind of sexy, in his modest opinion- chuckle that tumbles out of Akira’s lips, and that Hikaru can feel through his chest, thanks to their embrace, as he thinks _‘God, is this real? Please let it be real.’_

“Don’t get cocky. I’ll be a title holder too, before long.” Touya says, confirming his suspicions with their usual smack talk, albeit mellowed down by a chaste peck on the lips; and then his expression almost turns shy for a moment “Hikaru, it might be too soon, but…”

The blonde licks his lips, taking in the slight blush and low, sultry look. _‘Nothing will ever be too soon if you ask me looking like that.’_

“…will you show me the game? I haven’t had a chance to see the kifu.”

Hikaru is torn. On one hand, he kind of wants to punch Touya for ruining their romantic little moment; on the other hand… it’s probably one of the best games of his life and he’s damn proud of it. After a couple moments of wondering, his inherent love of Go wins over.

“Sure.” He agrees, leaning up to peck Akira on the tip of his nose, trying not to think about how even their _pillow talk_ is about Go, for heaven’s sake, “Let’s throw some clothes on and get the goban.”

And it doesn’t take long for either of them to realize that this is what they are –what they have is largely centered around Go, even though now there’s so much more around it; and they wouldn’t have it any other way. It feels natural, it feels easy, it’s the perfect medicine to recover from all the dark and bitter events of the last few days: just the two of them, sitting across a goban, discussing what they love the most.

“Hey, why didn’t you connect at 13-7? It left your centre formation open for an attack!”

“What?!” rightful outrage is quick to build up in the blonde, already gearing up for one of their fights, “No it doesn’t! Even if the old man attacked I could have defended with a keima and cut _him_ across!”

“Still, it was too risky!” Akira retorts, “You should know better than to get careless!”

“Ugh, you’re impossible! I don’t know whether to hit you or kiss you!”

“Yeah? Well, if you're so infallible why don’t you do both?!”

There’s a thump when Hikaru shoves his rival to the floor, and silence as he proceeds to kiss Touya senseless on his bedroom floor. The sounds of their laughter and continued bickering fill the air, and it feels just right, to be together like this.

For better or worse, the game they play, and the passion they share, is what they are.

And that’s enough for them both.

 

_~end~_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As it often happens... I don't even know. I planned to do one ending chapter and then maybe a cutesy epilogue, but alas, my hands refused me.  
> One day, one day I'll be able to overcome this "impulse-writing".  
> But as of right now... things are what they are.  
> And hey, at least I have more ideas for funny, cutesy one-shots.  
> Which will be completely unrelated to the For Better or Worse universe, but oh well. XD  
> All's well that ends well? I dunno.
> 
> Oh God, I hope this entire trainwreck makes at least some sort of sense.  
> I have to go now, I've got groceries to pick up and have to be at my second job in five hours and still haven't washed my hair.  
> Um.  
> Enjoy. :)


End file.
